Delphiniums for Three
by Willow Skye
Summary: Lyss' life jump starts when creatures from a place called Wonderland come for her. Follow her down the rabbit hole as she attempts to discover who she is, who she can trust, and the secrets Wonderland is hiding. Inspired by WCMI and Sunny Disposish.
1. Chapter 1

_Alright, here's a new twist on AiW. This is going to be a long and complex story, and I hope everyone sticks around to read it all! Disclaimers: Lewis Carroll wrote it, Disney moved his characters, Brianna and Rain revived them in WCMI, Burton re-imagined them, and Valadilenne was inspired by them._

_Enjoy! Please review either here or on my livejournal account._

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><p>"In the woods I went a-walkin'<br>In the woods I went a-stumblin' through the dark"

_-_The Scarlet Furies'_ Young Goodman Brown_

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><p>Alyssa Little had always considered herself to be a normal girl, despite the claims of many friends and family members who insisted that her head remained firmly in the clouds at all hours of the day. Perhaps, if you were lucky, one might be able to get her to admit to a grand imagination (for not everyone sees grandfather clocks shaped like a kitten when cloud gazing), or even a troubling sense of curiosity (several instances on camping trips in the countryside involving caves that may or may not have held magic lamps provided ample proof, after all). However, when one stripped away these inconsequential traits, Alyssa proved to be just like everyone else-a bit quiet, maybe, but a gentle volume was not an uncommon vocal preference.<p>

She had grown up in Oxford, England, born of two very kind, though slightly incognizant, parents. Since she really had no other comparison, she assumed that she grew up as normal children do: playing with her dolls, drawing random doodles on every surface except for paper, being read to, and learning a great many things. Teachers reported often that, while the girl was exceptionally intelligent and appeared to function quite normally, she would occasionally put a far-off look upon her face and gaze out of the classroom windows instead of paying attention to her lessons. When this issue was brought up with her parents, they had both insisted that the problem would be solved quite easily if Alyssa was seated in a place where windows weren't easily accessible, and so this was the approach the educators took, even though it really wasn't a helpful solution whatsoever.

In her youth, Alyssa greatly enjoyed picture books, and even put off learning to read for quite some time, for what good is a book if it has no pictures in it? It was only at the encouragement of her older sister that Alyssa finally, and begrudgingly, picked up a book with absolutely no drawings in it and began to read. She proved to be unusually adept at it, despite her frequent confusion with b's and d's. Eventually, she found the appeal of reading a book with no pictures, for when a book has no pictures, a person is set free to imagine all of the scenes and characters without the aid of lovely inked visuals (though, admittedly, she did occasionally read books with pictures in it, because sometimes art must be appreciated alongside the written word).

If she was ever perfectly honest with herself (and these moments were often few and far between), she would recognize that she had always lived a life of conforming to others and their ideas of what she should be. Her sister, older, naturally, had always thought Alyssa should be encouraged in her studies, and so often took it upon herself to educate her younger relative in her spare time, much to the younger relative's chagrin. Alyssa's mother had always thought Alyssa had more of an artist's brain, and thus encouraged her to take art lessons in stuffy, acrid rooms that she did not enjoy being in. When art eventually failed, dance lessons took their place, and when those failed, it became supplementary language courses as well as piano lessons, for, as all good parents know, every child is immediately fulfilled when they can say, "_Aucun, merc_i," while tinkling out Beethoven's _Ode to Joy _with just enough panache and zeal to be deemed passable.

Her father was another matter. He had never had a son, and as Alyssa's older sister flat out refused sports, he decided that Alyssa must obviously be the athletic one. He once purchased a basketball hoop to teach her some of the basics of dribbling and throwing, only to return the net one week later after an unfortunate incident involving the basketball, dislodged fingers, and a size nine tennis shoe. The short-lived stint with basketball soon dissolved into soccer, where Alyssa dutifully stuck out two entire seasons before her father realized that spending money for her to stand on the edge of a field in inclement weather was a tremendous waste. It was around this time that Alyssa's mother enrolled her in dance classes, and her father, figuring that dance was at least some sort of physical activity, laid off for a while. When language and music replaced dance, her father had a sudden and brilliant epiphany: Alyssa would be perfectly suited for running track (as this was largely an individual sport), and he encouraged her to go for her junior high school's team. It was with a sigh and a roll of her eyes that she did as he asked, and, though she was quite good at running both short and long distances, she received no pleasure in the participation of the sport.

No one had ever realized that Alyssa would have much rather spent the day laying in a wide, grassy field, gazing up at the sky with half-lidded eyes, with a book in hand and a companion to compare cloud shapes to. Truth be told, she was quite happy to finally go away to college, to get away from the people who insisted that she do things she didn't care for. Here she could study in the comfortable arms of an old tree, or lounge about in the library, poring over tomes of old and new works. Here she could live on her own, sustain herself as she saw fit, and become exactly who she wanted to be.

Perhaps, though, therein lied the problem, for Alyssa, even after two years of independence, did not know who she wanted to be. While she enjoyed the academic setting of college, it was still at the urging of others that she had even bothered to attend at all. Her parents had all but applied for her, because, after all, how was she to make something of herself if she never attended university? Didn't she want to be a great success at positively everything? Didn't she know what a "great disappointment" she would be if she didn't go away to study and earn a degree? Didn't she know that if she wanted to do anything she wanted, she would have to go to college first?

Admittedly, she felt like perhaps her parents might have been exaggerating somewhat, but she never questioned it more than once, and so did as she was told.

If she was having one of those Rare Honest Moments, she would realize that sometimes-a very rare sometimes-she felt as though there were two entirely different sides of her. One was the product of her childhood, and the other was the rough draft of a person with grand amounts of curiosity and wonderment. On fleeting occasions, she would find that this person would come out, and often at the most inconvenient of times. Her mind would wander as she walked between classes, thinking of many things; of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. She would tune out of the conversations her friends had when they would meet for lunch, finding her thoughts to be better company filled with better, though one-sided, conversation. If her friends took offense to the amount of times they would have to repeat themselves after she blinked dazedly at them and asked, "I'm sorry, could you say that again?", they showed no sign of it beyond their twitching eyes and straight-lipped mouths.

In truth, her friendships were more like acquaintanceships, for, as she had no similar interests with them except for champagne, they often found each other hard to relate to. It was not for a lack of trying, as they quickly discovered that they all got along much better when liquids that rhyme with "racers" were involved. Thus it was in states of semi-inebriation that a majority of their bonding occurred; unfortunately, most of that bonding was long forgotten by morning, or afternoon, or whenever it was that they finally woke up. It wasn't that Alyssa was unfriendly or unkind to people, for she was, contrariwise, a very sweet young woman with a splash of acid thrown in, much like a strawberry lemonade or a tortilla chip dipped briefly into a hot salsa. People in general just didn't seem to gravitate towards her, a fact she was very much fine with. She simply couldn't relate to many. Celebrity news carried no weight to her, nor did fashion trends (though she was usually well-dressed regardless), and the increasing use of technology as means of communication bothered her. Alyssa preferred a conversation with people she could see, and about subjects of higher intellectual value. And she did find a few people who shared her sentiments, though even these similarities couldn't bond them very well at all.

It was here that all of these things came full circle. Her "other" self would inevitably take over and become distracted over the most bizarre things, things that she had been thinking about secretly during the course of the conversation; she would often burst out questions that made no sense and had no immediate answer or even relevance to the topic at hand, thus completely unbalancing her converser and causing a very quick dismissal of the girl, who would be left to ponder her unusual questions alone.

It happened far more often than she would ever care to admit.

And so she went by, day to day, attending classes, studying in the library, occasionally meeting up with a few people, and going back to her apartment to read. She had far moved past her distaste in books with no pictures, and found that any book that allowed her to escape her daily monotony to be a welcome change.

There was one night in particular, however, that changed everything. Alyssa had arrived home a bit later than usual, and had just settled into bed at around eleven thirty. As per usual, she selected a book to read, and tonight's selection was _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. Nothing happened to distract her, again, an occurrence that was not unordinary. At least, nothing happened until midnight that night, as the day jumped suddenly from a Tuesday to a Wednesday. Suddenly, she was jolted out of her peaceful absorption by a strange and foreign thumping sound, coming from somewhere just outside her window. She hesitated, expecting the noise to pass. _It's probably just some drunk guy trying to get home_, she assumed, though she remained on high alert. The thumping faded after some time, and she felt herself relax a bit into her comforters.

At least, until she heard a loud _ticktickticktick_ sound coming from her living room. She bolted upright in her bed, her heart suddenly jumping to the front of her chest, desperate to break free. _The grandfather clock. It must be the clock_, the thought flashed to the front of her mind as the dark, weathered wood object floated around in her head.

And then she remembered something crucial: _The clock doesn't tick like that_. Soon after completing this thought, the thumping sound returned, mingling in the air with the ticking; _thump-tickticktick-thump-tickticktick-thump_, over and over again, filling her ears with its curious rhythm. Alyssa set her book down on her nightstand, and began the slow process of coaxing her petrified body into forward movement so that she might investigate the strange happenings in her living room. She had just reached the handle of her bedroom door and was turning the dingy brass knob when her heightened senses realized that the curious noises were much closer than they had been moments before; she flung open the door before she could talk herself out of it, and immediately screamed.

Her startled shouts were soon matched with even more noises, created by, of all things, a white rabbit. Now, normally, Alyssa wouldn't find anything too terribly strange about this-a true testament to her imagination-, except the rabbit's screams only served to startle her further, thus making her scream louder. The rabbit leapt back a few times, still screaming, his strange, mid-pitched voice climbing increasingly higher. Here was the explanation for the thumps, and Alyssa was taken aback by such a sudden reason behind what was happening that her screams cut off abruptly. The furry, white creature continued his wails, and as Alyssa listened to this, she noticed another sound underneath it, a sort of melodious ticking. _The mysterious ticking noise! It wasn't the grandfather clock at all; it's his pocket watch! _she told herself, relief bathing her in waves.

And indeed, this particular rabbit was holding a pocket watch, though this could be considered normal given that he was also dressed in a very dapper waistcoat.

Alyssa blinked and furiously rubbed her eyes; even for a girl with excess imagination, this was very strange, indeed. Rabbits don't go about in waistcoats, no matter how creative a mind might be.

"What on Earth..." she murmured, still periodically running her hands over her eyes to make sure they were working properly. The rabbit ceased his wails and looked at her, eyes wide and startled.

"Don't DO that!" he exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed and rumpled at her unexpected reaction. "It's very _rude_!"

"I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Humph!" was the bunny's only response.

"Can I help you?" she ventured, slowly making her way down the narrow hall to where the rabbit stood pressed against the wall, arms splayed out to the side, still trembling as fast as his little twitching nose.

"A better question would be, can _I _help _you,_ Miss Alice?" he corrected, and visibly relaxed as Alyssa knelt down next to him and began petting his head reassuringly.

"Miss Alice? Who is Alice?" she asked, still methodically stroking the fur between his bulging eyes.

"You are, of course," was his logical reply.

"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else," she said, "My name is Alyssa." She continued to pat the rabbit, a bit distractedly now, as she debated his most strange way of addressing her.

At least, she was, until he expanded and shot up five feet, his furry features turning into a beard and his white hind limbs becoming silken pants. His paws became human hands, and at these startling transformations, Alyssa once again screamed, only this time, his hand clamped down on her mouth as he whispered, "Careful, you might wake your neighbors, and we can't have that!" She looked at him curiously, wondering if he had forgotten that only moments before, they had both been screaming rather loudly and with no consideration at all. It seemed as though he had.

"Who are you?" she asked his palm, her words muffled by his fingers.

"The White Rabbit," There was a loud crashing sound outside as he said this, and he quickly sputtered out, "There is no time right now. Meet me at the rabbit hole if you wish to know more. You absolutely must arrive before a new day is upon us, otherwise nothing will get done, nothing at all! Don't be late!" And with those final words, he removed his hand from her face and shot out of her apartment, taking the ticking sound with him. The front door clicked shut, and Alyssa hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should summon the police. But she was curious. What had all that been about? She shook her head and walked to the door, locking it firmly and checking the handle before she trudged to her bedroom, now very much exhausted and confused. She debated reading some more, then thought better of it, and simply flicked out the light and tried to sleep, though her mind plagued her by refusing to shut itself off for a good hour first. When she finally conked out, it was in a state of semi-consciousness and semi-dreaming; she felt aware of her bedroom but also knew that she was asleep, and it was a most disturbing sensation, which coupled well with her most disturbing night.

Waking up on that first fateful day had been strange for Alyssa Little. Initially, she dismissed it as a dream or the horrifying result of too much alcohol the night prior. In fact, Alyssa had hardly given the events of the very early morning a second thought that day and had gone about to her classes like nothing unusual whatsoever had occurred. She tried to stay awake for math, met up with a few friends for lunch, attempted to use coffee as a cure for what she assumed must have been a hangover and focused on studying later in the calm quiet of the library. Though, upon further inspection, Alyssa would eventually recall that she had not had even a single shot glass of the burning liquid, and that as it had been a Tuesday night prior, the likelihood of her having gone to a party and having her drink spiked was nil, and that as it was finals week, very little partying had actually occurred near the campus, unless the spontaneous singing in the dining hall was included.

It wasn't until she returned to her small little apartment and saw the tuft of soft, white hair nestled underneath a pocket watch she most certainly did not own that Alyssa first thought that perhaps the events of that morning hadn't been imaginary.

"Oh, hell," she said aloud, with the watch as her only witness, and promptly rushed out of her apartment, flew down the stairs, and ran faster than she had ever moved in her life. _Where had he said to meet him?_ This thought tumbled in her brain as she blazed past students and trees, buildings and paths becoming obsolete blurs in her rush._ A...a...rabbit hole? But that's just ridiculous. There are no noticeable rabbit holes anywhere near here. That can't be it._

As her mind raced as quickly as her heart, Alyssa found that she paid less and less attention to her surroundings, causing her to run right into some people on occasion. They were mostly students, with the exception of her mathematics and art history teacher, Professor Dodgson. He simply remarked to her to watch where she was going. His words revealed nothing of the ticking of his brain, for after one glance at his student's face, he began to wonder if something was amiss, and could not shake this thought even when he returned home and spent the evening looking outside of his window, mentally spinning stories of nonsense, instead of focusing on his ever increasing piles of research.

For her part, Alyssa hardly felt her run in with her professor, and never heard his words of caution. This, however, was a good thing, for, by not watching were she was going, she found herself in precisely the place she wanted to be. _Most illogical_.

"I had a feeling you would show up. You're cutting it awfully close though, don't you think, my dear?" came a slowly hopping voice to her left.

"What do you mean?"

"It's only an hour until midnight, Miss Alice," spoke the disembodied voice, bodying itself as it hopped closer.

"Weren't you a human this morning?"

"Only to appear less frightening to you, Alice."

"Stop calling me that. I told you, my name isn't Alice, it's Alyssa."

"Oh, yes, so sorry, dear. It's very easy to forget a thing like that," Alyssa watched as the rabbit fumbled around in this waistcoat pockets, looking for something, "You wouldn't happen to have remembered to bring my watch, would you?" The rabbit looked up at her hopefully, a small, bashful smile on his face. Alyssa knelt and opened her hand, revealing the shimmering gold circle safely displayed in her palm. "Wonderful, dear!" he exclaimed as his furry little paws reached out and reclaimed his prized possession. "Oh my, it's less than an hour until midnight! Please, Miss Alice, do you have any questions for me? There is no time at all to answer them!"

The rabbit was visibly distressed at the time, and Alyssa was quite worried for him, and, for a moment, forgot to think about how odd the entire situation was.

"Why do you keep calling me Miss Alice?" she began, as that was the question that seemed most important at the time.

The rabbit gave her a look, like it was questioning the intelligence capacity of her brain. When he finally spoke, it was slow, and ended as if he was asking a question of her, "Because...it's...your...name?"

"But it's not. I've already told you, it's-"

"It is too. It's been Alice for over one hundred and fifty years."

At this, Alyssa gave pause, and blinked at him. She rubbed her eyes, then her ears, and asked him to repeat what he said. When the same answer was given, she shook her head.

"I'm twenty."

"I know."

This conversation was making absolutely no sense, "How can I be over one hundred and fifty if I'm twenty?"

"Because, you've kept on celebrating your birthdays, that's how."

"What does my birthday have anything to do with this? I happen to like birthdays," At this, the rabbit only bugged his eyes out and twitched. Alyssa thought he was having a stroke and reached out to touch him, only to watch him scurry away from her hand.

"Don't TOUCH me!" he declared, eyes wide with fright, "I don't want to get your _birthday_ all over me!"

"I'm sorry!" Alyssa retreated, now thoroughly confused, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"By celebrating your birthday, you aged when you went back, and then you died, until you were born again, and started celebrating your birthday all over again."

At this statement, Alyssa summed up everything she was feeling and what she thought of it in one profound word.

"Huh?"

Unfortunately, Alyssa never discovered the answer, as the rabbit jumped into the air, declared rather loudly that he was late, and disappeared while hovering in midair. Alyssa gasped, then stared at the space that once was a rabbit. She reached out her hand to touch the area, half expecting it to hit the white ball of fluff, but she never did. She waved it around some more, in case she had misjudged his location, and when she still could not find the rabbit, she stood up, and, trying to remember which way she had come from, began wandering back to her apartment, a rather difficult task, given the way the trees had grown in the small forest. _Oh well_, she thought, _No matter which way I go, I'm bound to come out at some point_. And off she went, in a general that-way direction, traipsing among the trees and their roots and fallen leaves, with only the crunching sounds beneath her feet as company.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's Chapter 2! I hope the wait wasn't too long, and that everyone is still interested in reading! I was given feedback that people would like having relevant quotes at the beginning of each chapter, so I've added one to Chapter One and it will now be in place for all following chapters. Enjoy!_

__Disclaimers: Lewis Carroll wrote it, Disney moved his characters, Brianna and Rain revived them in WCMI, Burton re-imagined them, and Valadilenne was inspired by them._ _

_Please review either here or on my livejournal account, linked on my profile page. Thank you!_

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><p>"The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings."<p>

-J.M. Barrie

"If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much."

-Mark Twain

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><p><em>Tap.<em>

_Tap tap._

_Tap tap tap._

_Tap._

_taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap!_

Alyssa was unwillingly dragged out of sleep by these curious sounds hitting her window. _The hell?_ was her first coherent thought as she blinked at her room, slowly sitting up in her bed. The sound was coming from her bedroom window, and she meandered out of her warm sheets to open the blinds and look out.

It was a very good thing that her bed was conveniently located near her window, because what she saw made her fall back on it in shock.

There were six very eager looking birds perched on her sill, peering out at her from comically oversized eyes. One was quacking obnoxiously at her, and a rather large bird, one that Alyssa had never seen before, was frozen in shock, his beak poised to tap at her window some more before it had been discovered. They stared at each other for a while, Alyssa and the feathered creatures. The bird with a fuzzy head tilted its head to the side and blinked three times in rapid succession, while a very colorful, parrot-like avian ruffled its feathers and let out a long, loud squawk. It wasn't until the foreign bird spoke up that Alyssa really believed what she was seeing.

"I say, good miss, would you mind opening the window and letting us in? It's rather chilly outside," he said, straining his voice in order to be heard through the thick glass. A black and white patterned bird nodded its head emphatically, and shivered to prove the bird's point. _The bird just shivered. Birds can't shiver...right?_, Alyssa thought, and somehow this seemed to be a logical reason to let the poor dears inside, and she opened the locked window. The creatures all exclaimed in delight and plodded inside, a few feathers dropping onto Alyssa's floor in the process. A small bird dropped quite a few bright yellow ones before taking off to the door leading to the rest of her flat, where it began pecking very insistently at the handle there. Alyssa shut her window with a _snick_, and locked it for good measure, as six birds were entirely enough for one girl to handle.

"Can I help you?" she muttered aloud, for she had never talked to a bird before, let alone an audience filled with them.

"Why, yes, dear, you can!" the odd bird exclaimed, ending in an energetic feather ruffle and a wink of his eye. "We've been sent to bring you back to Wonderland!" he declared, and he waddled around her room, looking for a way out. The feathers at the top of his head squished downwards, "Alice, dear, it appears as though you don't have a proper exit in this abode!" At this, the yellow bird, still perched on the door handle, squeaked at the large bird, as if to say, "It's right here, you dodo!"

"What's that, old chap?" he questioned, squinting his rather large eyeballs at the little creature. It only chirped back in reply. "Oh, I see, mate." He managed to maneuver his oversized body onto Alyssa's bed, where he could be in a place of importance and prominence. "Attention everyone!" he announced, looking down on all of the birds gathered around him before his gaze fell on Alyssa, who was standing and thus much taller than he was. "If you wouldn't mind my dear..." he grumbled, trying to be discreet about the whole situation as he gestured at the floor emphatically.

Alyssa did not see this, however, as she was rather distracted about the fact that a rather large bird was currently seated at the edge of her bed, and five others were strewn about her room, pecking and chirping at each other and her various belongings.

"Don't touch that!" she screamed as the black and white bird got a little too close and a little too curious about the pictures on her wall. She stepped over the colorful bird and made to grab the attacker, only it flew away just as she closed in on it.

"Ex-CUSE me, I'm t-RYING to make an an-NOUNCE-ment here!" the strange bird indignantly informed her. "Please take a seat!" Alyssa stared at him, positively furious, but did as he asked with a huff, crossing both her legs and her arms as she sat.

"Excellent! Now that we are all here, I would like to let you all know that I have discovered a way to exit the room, because for some reason, I can't find a rabbit hole or a looking glass with which to enter the Wonderland."

"Pardon me, but I really have no interest in going to-" Alyssa began, cutting off the rather proud specimen.

"Ex-CUSE me, miss, but I'm afraid this is far more important than your silly whims," he nearly yelled at her, clearly advancing to that state of anger best described as pissed off. "Now, as I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," he began again, "I have decided that the best way to exit is by performing a magic trick! Alice, dear, if you would be so kind as to assist me, I think it will be a splendid trick indeed!" he announced, looking at Alyssa, all traces of anger vanished from his face. It was unnerving to see such a sudden change in his character, and Alyssa only nodded her head slowly as confirmation. "Excellent! Now, everybody, face the door!" All remaining birds promptly turned themselves so that their faces were still staring at the strange bird but their bodies were at the white door. "Excellent!"

Alyssa heard one of the birds twitter to another in a low voice, "I do too know what it means, you lory!" the once again angry bird interjected. "As I was saying! Now, the trick is, we're going to make you all _disappear_!" The five birds began chatting excitedly, apparently rather impressed with the act. The head bird gestured to Alyssa, summoning her to his bed perch. She scooted over, still seated, for she was terrified that he might become angry once again if she stood taller than him. He whispered something in her ear, and Alyssa only rolled her eyes before standing up and opening the bedroom door for the creatures, who all chirped very loudly and flew through the door, the bed bird plodding along behind them. Everything was wonderful and victorious, and Alyssa gladly followed them out of the door, happy that their feathers were no longer falling all over the wooden floor.

The moment was short lived, however, when, upon finding themselves in her living room, the large bird ruffled himself up and declared, "Well, NOW how do we get out?"

Alyssa only smacked her forehead with her palm. It was going to be a very long morning, and she most certainly didn't have the time for this.

"Here, just exit through this door. It was," she paused, searching for the proper word, "very _interesting_ meeting you all. Have a nice day!" She opened the front door and gestured that they should exit through it, but they moved not.

"We were told that you have to come with us," the lead bird said.

"I have a class that I need to get to. I'm afraid I can't go anywhere with you," she explained.

The bird shrugged, "That is not a problem! We have all day to wait." Alyssa rolled her eyes. She had no time for this annoying display of stubbornness. "Or, at least until midnight,"

"Why midnight?" Alyssa found herself asking, despite the logical voice in the back of her head that told her the less she knew, the better off she was.

"Didn't the rabbit tell you?" the bird questioned, turning his head sideways, his bulbous eyes bugging out of his head.

"Tell me what?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her once again.

The feathered creature ruffled himself in an important fashion, preening himself for the important information he had to deliver, "All creatures from Wonderland-animal, human, or otherwise-are only permitted to stay in the Otherland for exactly twenty-four hours, or else things of a dire and serious nature will occur," he finished with a whistle.

"What sort of things are those?" _Goodness, you really must stop conversing with these things,_ she thought to herself,_ it's going to get you into trouble_.

"Oh, you know, things like death, spontaneous fires, polar bears showing up on tropical islands, those sorts of thing," was his very strange response.

"I...I see," she hesitantly answered, "Anyway, I really must be going now, so I hope you all make it back to...to Wonderland...safe and sound." And with that, she grabbed her backpack and set off to her class, leaving the feathery intruders behind. They all looked at each other, then back to the leader.

"Should we tell her that she's wearing pajamas?" he asked them, and they put it to a vote. It was unanimously in favor of letting things be; no one wanted to be rude, after all.

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><p>Under normal circumstances, walking between classes at university was a relatively boring activity. Occasionally, a friend or two would be in the path that Alyssa would take and, depending on the day, a few words would sometimes be exchanged. Usually, she would stop for a refill on her coffee and a small bite to eat so that she could stay awake for her next lecture. If her next class didn't start soon after the last one, she would sometimes take her notes from the previous lecture and review them under the shade of a wide tree, or, if it was raining, she would make her way to the library and study there.<p>

This was her routine, and she had stuck with it for her first two years thus far. Her perfect record was, however, thwarted that day, and, despite what should have been many obvious signs that morning (such as her sudden confusion at being caught out in public in her nightclothes), she never saw it coming.

It happened under her favorite tree.

She had an hour and a half to pass before her next class began, and so, as usual, she went to review her notes and do a bit of light reading. Her coffee was still warm, and she had just taken a considerable gulp of it when a black and white feather landed softly on her book cover. To an outsider, she had no visible reaction, except that maybe her eyes widened slightly at the non-indigenous object. Her internal reaction was an entirely different story; her heart rate sped up, her mouth became a small desert, and her thoughts slammed into each other in her brain. _No. No. It can't be. I told them to... But. No._

She closed her eyes and mentally willed away what she thought was nestled in the branches high above her to go away and go back from whence they came. _Not that such a place exists_, she scoffed at herself, before taking pause, _Right_?

_No. Mustn't think such nonsense. It's highly illogical._

She opened one eye slowly and tilted her head upwards, terrified of what she might see and noticeably distressed at what she saw. Alyssa shook her head, squinting her eyes together so that her eyebrows nearly met with her nose, and tentatively opened them again to the same scene. Six birds, all with unusually massive eyes, were sitting in the branches, staring down at her, occasionally whistling at each other and ruffling or meticulously cleaning their feathers. She stood up cautiously, partly because she was afraid one or two of them might need to release excrement at some point and she was directly underneath them.

Avians and girl stared at each other in perfect silence.

A large chunk of time passed. Someone yelled out to Alyssa, "Oi! It's just a bunch of birds! No need for alarm!" and even this did not break her fierce concentration on them, though she did mentally glare at the boy for good measure.

When no one appeared to be nearby, she spoke.

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you all to shove off," she said, crossing her arms and shooting daggers at the feathery disturbers. The bird who had spoken to her earlier that day looked at her questioningly.

"You did? I don't recall that," he replied, "And besides, we're supposed to bring you with us."

"But I already told you! I don't want to go with you!"

"And why is that?"

"Because...because..."

And here Alyssa faltered, her stubborn confidence failing her for the first time as she let her logical nature slip away from her for a few moments.

She whispered out, as if to speak to herself only, "Because a place like Wonderland just can't exist."

Several of the birds gave loud, vocal interjections at this, and their oversized leader nearly shouted at her, "What do you _mean_, IT CAN'T EXIST?" he demanded, leering over his branch to stare at her, his bulbous eyes shrinking as they glared furiously at her.

"I mean...I mean..." She looked around, desperate for a way out.

"Do you have any comfits?" she was suddenly asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Comfits. Sugary delicacies. Sweet delicious treats of wonder," he explained to her. She dug around in her pockets and produced exactly six small hard candies, and extended her hand to offer them to the birds. They greedily flocked around her and began pecking mercilessly at the orbs, the sugar steadily placating them as they munched from the lowest branches of the tree.

It was during their small feast that she sighed and glanced down at her feet.

Alyssa had been very sure that she had been sitting in that exact spot only moments before. She was very sure that she had only just been sipping her coffee there.

She was very sure that there had not been a small hole at the base of the tree, one that was rapidly expanding at her feet.

"What the...!" she exclaimed, jumping back to avoid being swallowed whole by the hole. The birds flew from the tree to the grass behind her, twittering away. The parrot-like bird gave her a knowing look, and the small yellow one landed on her shoulder, tweeted lowly once, nodded, and flew away to join its companions. The lead bird looked at her solemnly before speaking yet again.

"All you have to do is jump,"

With those final words, he and his fellow avians took off and flew down into the hole, where it swallowed them up and disappeared completely. Alyssa was left staring at the ground, wondering if she might faint. Finally she edged her way over to the base of the tree and toed around the area where the hole had been. She knelt and patted down the grass in search of the tunnel that had completely vanished.

She found nothing. It appeared that the ground was as solid as ever, and that nothing out of sorts had happened there at all.

Alyssa stood and stared at the ground some more, still very panicked. She gathered her books and things, and, checking the time, hurried off to her lecture. Glancing once over her shoulder, she had a very unsettling thought.

_Seems like proof. Undeniable, inescapable proof._

Nothing of interest happened for the rest of the day, but even so, the girl could not shake her sudden desire to find that tunnel and explore what was on the other side. It would probably be far more interesting than her life here was, and her sudden curiosity about what lay on the other side terrified her more than all of the questions she had about how strange the entire thing was.

* * *

><p>She thought she was in the clear that following day. Nothing out of sorts had happened, no bunnies in waistcoats appeared and no feathery companions trailed her every move. She saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt altogether like the day was quite normal.<p>

Perhaps this was what she found most disconcerting of all, and perhaps this was why she wasn't terribly surprised to discover that she was being followed on her way back home.

It hadn't been easy to pick up on the man with the long, idle stroll behind her. He made absolutely no noise whatsoever-a rather unnerving trait-and to a casual observer he didn't even seem to be following her at all. She knew better, though.

After all, strangers don't follow strangers for twenty minutes unless they wanted something, and one dressed as garishly as this one was probably going to ask her for something in particular, and as of yesterday, she was all out of candy. She noticed that the few people he passed would sometimes stop and stare at him, probably because of his curiously plum purple pants pinstriped with a pink that was only two shades away from becoming red. Or perhaps it was because of his matching suit jacket, or the way his dark hair was styled so that it looked like he had two horns on either side of his head, the opposite of a mohawk in every way.

Or maybe it was his smile, unnaturally splitting his face in half. She had seen large smiles before, of course, but never ones that seemed to literally reach from ear to ear. And that smile was directed at her-predatory, knowledgeable, slinky.

Alyssa reached a dark window in front of her, and immediately used it to look behind her, searching for the grinning fellow. To her relief, he had vanished, and she released a sigh and unclenched the fists she hadn't known she was making. She turned to her right, all set to go back to her apartment, and immediately found herself paralyzed once again, for the man in question had literally appeared from out of nowhere and was now casually leaning against the storefront, cleaning his nails, and looking for all the world as if he had just spent his day lounging in some quirky coffee shop, and had not just ran a good five to ten yards to catch up to her. _Is he even breathing? Am I breathing?_ thought Alyssa as she consciously drew air to her lungs, bracing herself for whatever might happen next. He looked up casually at her, still methodically purging his nails of dirt, and finally spoke.

"Hello, Alyssa," he rumbled, his deep voice almost adapting a snake-like quality to the way he elongated his pronunciation, "I hear Wonderland's been missing you. Will you join us? Or won't you?"

"I-I-," was all she could stammer out, for she was so taken aback by his voice, and what he had told her, "Huh?" she questioned.

"Don't _tell_ me no one's told you!" he chuckled out, his grin growing impossibly larger, "I thought the rabbit was supposed to take care of it."

"Take care of what?" Alyssa was once again in a state of confusion, and was so oddly charmed by the man that she couldn't help her heightened sense of curiousness. He only gave her a calculating look, cocking one eyebrow up to his hairline. "I'm afraid I don't know what's going on," she elaborated, trying to make herself helpful.

"Ah. Well, if you'll follow me, then," he said, and began his slow walk forward. After six long, languid paces, he turned around, and noticed that Alyssa was still rooted to her spot, unmoving and unwilling to follow. He strolled back to her, and her eyes widened in panic. Before she could run, he vanished yet again, and appeared behind her. She screamed, only to be cut off by his hand slamming across her mouth, his sharp nails digging into her jawline.

"Don't."

She could only nod.

"We'll do it your way. Talk right here, out in the open. Everyone will be able to see you," reassured the man, and he leaned forward to rasp into her ear, "But I'm going to have to make sure you can't get away, either." Before he had even finished his sentence, Alyssa felt something thin and furry winding its way around her legs, sneaking up to her torso, and coming to a stop at her jawline. The man released his grip on her mouth, and the end of the strange object flicked back and forth across her cheek. Looking down, she saw that whatever it was had the same purple and pink colors of the man's suit, only in a horizontal stripe instead of a vertical one.

As panicked as she felt, the presence of the thing was comforting, and she found herself leaning into the end by her cheek and idly stroking the parts that reached her hands.

It was then that she noticed that the man had moved in front of her. And that he was purring.

Looking into his eyes, she saw for the first time that they had turned yellow, and were glowing and glinting in the moonlight. He licked his lips, his tongue tracing over teeth that were decidedly sharper than they had been just moments before, and his cheeks had suddenly sprouted several long, almost translucent hairs.

"Oh, did I mention my name? Friends call me Chesh," he said, still smiling creepily at her and leaning in slightly. "Now, onto the explanation," he began, keeping Alyssa's eyes almost frighteningly transfixed upon his gaze, "I believe you've been receiving some strange guests these past couple of days, yes?" She nodded. "Well, my dear," and at this he purred loudly, "we've been visiting you because the world we come from has decided that it wants you back."

"And what world might that be? New York?" she questioned, covering up her fear with sarcasm. After all, she imagined a place like New York would be the only logical explanation for these strange people and things that were stalking her. He only gave one single, low laugh at her response.

"Actually, we call it Wonderland,"

She blinked, her put-upon confidence all but forgotten as she processed his statement, her smile faltering and her insides squeezing together in response.

"We would really appreciate it if you would come back,"

"C-come back?"

"Yes," he said, lengthening the 's' sound so that it echoed in her ears for a good while after he had completed the word. "And what Wonderland wants, Wonderland gets."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"That's a silly thing to be afraid of."

"I-what?"

"You always were in need of profuse direction," he sighed, "But you're a smart girl. I'm sure you can piece it together."

"Piece what together?"

"It's just like a puzzle, you see. One with a lot of similar colors and loads of itty bitty pieces. Frustrating, but worth the big picture, don't you think?"

He clearly thought he was being witty and clever, and his smile had stretched so far by now that Alyssa honestly thought it was going to split his face in two.

"I thought only Alice's went into Wonderland," she said, trying to appear smart but with undetermined success.

"Foolish girl. Many people find themselves in Wonderland, but only a specific Alice finds herself there consistently. And you are her," he said, peering even closer at her with his stomach-churning yellow eyes, "And don't tell me you aren't, for I know you are. I know everything. I'm witty and clever like that," he continued, rolling his eyes a bit at the end. "Afraid I must dash now. So sorry to leave you like this," he said, then vanished for a third time. The strange fuzzy object was still wrapped around Alyssa, and she struggled a bit to get out of it, until a crescent moon smile appeared at her left shoulder and said, "Oh, dear, that darn tail always gets left behind," then both disappeared, and Alyssa was left to meander to her flat with enough curiosity to kill nine cats. She casually looked at her watch, and noticed that the time was ten minutes after midnight. _Isn't he supposed to disappear before then? How strange. Though, I suppose he IS a Cheshire Cat. He can probably do whatever he wants._

"One more thing," said a floating voice to her left. Alyssa jumped, thoroughly startled, and looked at the grinning smile, "You might want to get a good night's sleep. You're going to have a very busy day."

"Why is that? What do you know?" she asked the apparition as it faded again before her eyes.

"The Mad Hatter is visiting."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three! It's a long one, about the size of Chapters One and Two combined, but it's (hopefully) worth it! Questions will be answered, more will spring up, nothing new here! I'm very nervous and excited about this one, as the Hatter is one of my favorite characters. I hope everyone likes him! Enjoy reading, please review, and a Happy Mad Hatter Day to all!_

* * *

><p>"A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow."<p>

-Shakespeare

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'"

-C.S. Lewis

* * *

><p>After her rather curious night, all Alyssa had wanted to do was sleep for hours on end, hopefully in a non-dreaming state, though, given all that had occurred, she internally knew that her dreams would be filled with the most bizarre spectacle of events. Her shaky hand had taken its time in putting her apartment key into its lock, and for a moment, passersby would have assumed that the girl had fallen asleep against the door frame as she paused to rest herself before continuing her mission to reach the soft fluff of her bed. After collecting herself, the key worked marvelously, and she almost forgot the all-important necessity of re-locking it behind her, but fortunately she did indeed remember (though, looking back, she wondered if perhaps things would have been easier if her memory was misplaced that night), and upon locking the door, she promptly stumbled to her bedroom. Though she may have tripped against the coffee table obstacle and leaned a bit too far against the countertop blockade, she finally made it to her room...<p>

...and immediately collapsed onto the floor, having misjudged the distance it was to her bed, and fell fast asleep.

She awoke several hours later to loud clattering sounds. Initially, she firmly believed that her brain had simply gone into overdrive the day before and was screaming at her for causing such a massive headache. However, when she rubbed her temples, and the sound did not ebb or diminish at all, she became slightly more alert. The first thing she noticed was her rug; looking down at it from her bed, it seemed as if something had squished it for a very long time, and then it occurred to her that her rug wasn't placed next to her bed, but rather, it inhabited the floor near the foot of the bed. She slowly sat up, keeping an eye on the suspicious rug, blinked exactly three times, took a deep breath, and yelled as loud as she could,

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

The clattering promptly stopped. In its place, loud footfalls seemed to be making their way toward her room.

_Oh God_, she thought, her morning bleariness quickly giving way to panic, _Someone's broken in!_

Alyssa, having never really experienced much of fighting and self-defense mechanisms, did the only thing that made sense in her mind at that moment.

Her hand reached out to grab her bedside lamp, and she jumped to her feet, taking the top edge of her mattress covers with her, so that she could use them as a shield against whatever had wormed its way into her house.

The door to her room flung open so suddenly that it smacked into the wall and made such a loud noise that Alyssa wondered for a moment if the door had managed to break through the wall. What she saw before her was a flash of orange and green, as well as a bit of blue, and it was barreling towards her.

"ALICE!" screamed the blur in a positively giddy way, and she soon felt two strong arms pinning hers to her sides, her feet lifting off the ground in what she would later describe as her first real bear hug. The blur, now much more still, swayed back and forth and made a happy humming noise, completely ignoring Alyssa's feet hitting its calves as a result of the swaying and her attempts to hit it with the lamp, despite the fact that she could only really maneuver her wrist.

"Put. Me. Down. NOW!" she screamed, and the blur was so taken aback that it promptly dropped her, and she fell back onto the bed. Alyssa got a good look at what had gotten into her house; it was a man wearing a large, stained orange coat with green trousers, and looking further up, she saw that he had placed a hat the size of his torso upon his head. She also saw sadness on the man's face. It appeared that she had burst his bubble, and she began to regret her harshness, until she remembered that he had broken into her house and made all kinds of racket.

"Who are you?" she began, and then suddenly her mouth caught up to her brain, and she began spewing questions in rapid fire succession at him, not even certain what she was asking. "How did you get in here? Why are you here? What was that noise? What time is it? And who is Alice?"

He looked down at her all the while, and paused, seeing if she would continue, "Finished?"

She remained down on her bed, blinking up at him slowly, "For now."

His chest expanded greatly as he inhaled a rather large breath, "You may call me Hatter, or Mr. Hatter, for right now. I came in through the window, for the front door is locked, rather strange, you know, and very rude. I'm here to bring you back, I was trying to make tea but found absolutely no teapots, which is an absolute abomination. My watch is two days late so who knows what time it is, and _you_ are Alice, silly," was his response to her interrogation.

Processing his words took a great while on her part, "I'm..not Alice, Mr. Hatter," she began, "My name is Alyssa. I went over this yesterday with...or was it the day before..." she trailed off, as her thoughts jumbled and tumbled over each other with no hope of ever becoming coherent enough to vocalize. He peered down at her, then dropped down and laid next to her on her bed, his long legs making his feet splash over the edge.

"That's different. You've always been Alice before," he replied. She simply sighed.

"So I've heard."

"I wonder why you aren't Alice this time. You look like Alice," he told her, and his eyes became practically cross-eyed as he tried to contemplate this new information.

"You don't look like what I pictured you to be," was her reply.

"And what did you think I would look like?" he asked her, his previous thought forgotten as he focused his eyes very sharply on her face.

"Shorter. Much shorter. And certainly not so..."

"Not so what?"

"Nothing," she said, as she hid her neck behind her hands. He blissfully ignored it and instead sat bolt upright and stared at very place she was trying to conceal, transfixed with the shiny metal chain that hung there. The Hatter made a grab for the necklace, but before he could reach it, Alyssa smacked one hand against it to stop him. He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly annoyed.

"Show me."

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with a cranberry-orange scone on top, with a nice cup of breakfast tea to go with it, and perhaps some cream too?"

Alyssa, still slightly foggy from sleep and disbelief, was so confused and enchanted by his statement that she lifted the necklace off of her to show him.

"No no no! Keep it on," he insisted.

"Why? It's much easier to see it when..." she began before he cut her off.

"But it's much prettier to look at when it's around your neck," he explained to her, and she felt herself redden slightly at his words. She lowered the necklace with its cage charm to its usual place and watched him study it for a while.

"It's a very strange charm to wear," he finally spoke up, "I much prefer tea cup charms, or even Dodo feather charms."

"Then perhaps you should get me one of those charms instead," she suggested, and watched as his face completely lit up at the idea.

"Oh, yes, that would look lovely on you!" he energetically replied with the clapping of his hands. "But we simply have no time for that right now, we must get going!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! Come on, come on, come on!" He began to drag her away from the bed, and when she caught the bedpost in protest, he continued shouting at her, his insistence in leaving mixing with her insistence on needing to change, as she was wearing the clothes she had worn yesterday.

"So what?" he replied, "I do that all the time!"

"Yes, but it's not acceptable here!"

"Why not? You look perfectly perfect already!"

"Because it's just not!"

"But we need to go! We've already been killing too much Time as it is!

"I NEED TO CHANGE!"

"NO YOU DON'T, ALICE!"

"MY NAME IS ALYSSA!"

"LET GO OF THE BEDPOST!"

"MAKE ME!"

"FINE!"

And with that final scream, the Hatter gathered all of his strength and practically yanked Alyssa's arm off as he pulled her out of the safety of her bedroom and into the front of the apartment.

One would have assumed that the screaming then stopped because Alyssa had finally given up struggling, and since she was no longer arguing with him, the Hatter therefore had no reason to scream back. However, Alyssa had only stopped screaming because, as she looked to her right into the kitchen, she saw the cause of all the clattering and banging that morning, and also exactly how the Hatter had entered her abode, and was simply struck dumb. The Hatter also stopped, suddenly remembering what he had been doing that morning just after he had rearranged Alyssa onto her bed and off of that horribly boring rug of hers, and looked tentatively at Alyssa. Her jaw seemed to have lost its hinges and her eyes had grown impossibly large, allowing the Hatter to glimpse at the pretty shade of blue they were, and to grow quite giddy that they were just the shade he had remembered them to be back in the seventies, and at this thought he smiled quite largely, until the saucer plate eyes returned to his face, and he noticed the fury behind them, and the smile promptly deflated.

"I was only trying to-"

"Don't."

"It's just that I rather like tea, and-"

"Don't."

"I had none with me, you see-"

"Please stop."

"I always have tea with me-"

"Seriously."

"You can even check my hat, there's none in there, and-"

She held up her hand so he could visually see instead of just hear her pleas, and he immediately stopped talking. He looked so like a lost animal when she did this, an apology outlined on all of his features.

"I couldn't help myself."

She sighed, "Let's just go," and with that, the Hatter brightened and they sauntered outside to enjoy the day and strange company.

* * *

><p>The town was covered up by a soft gray layer of gently misting clouds, with an occasional patch of blue sky peeking its way out from between them. It was certainly not the kind of day where one would be out and about, engaging in multifarious activities such as the Hatter had planned. He was walking slightly ahead, with Alyssa trailing very closely behind him, and he seemed to be completely oblivious to the sprinkle of water (though, with a hat brim that large, it was highly unlikely that he even felt any of it).<p>

"Where are we going?" she asked, wishing that she had brought some sort of umbrella with her and that she would have had more conviction that morning when she had insisted on changing, because a skirt was just not acceptable for this sort of weather.

He paid her no attention, and the only indication that he had even heard her was his quick backwards glance at her as he continued walking, looking around all the while in his search for...something. It felt as though they had been walking for an awfully long time, and Alyssa was starting to tire of their ramble. The Hatter seemed to be a bit knackered as well; he lifted his hand across his forehead, causing his brilliantly green hat to lift slightly in the process.

The rain began slowing down, as did their walking pace, when suddenly, almost out of nowhere, an expansive grassy hill was right in front of them, and the Hatter was running at it, declaring rather proudly, "I _knew_ I'd find it!" Alyssa only noticed, and gratefully, that there was a large, shady, sideways-growing tree near the middle of the small hill, and she too ran forward to take shelter underneath its leafy branches. It was only when she was completely protected by the tree that she noticed that the rain had not only slowed, but it had stopped altogether.

"That's strange," she spoke aloud.

"What is?" the Hatter asked her.

She glanced around at their surroundings, "Well, for one, the rain stopped. And so suddenly! That never happens here," she informed him, "And," she began again, looking more closely at exactly where they were, "And I don't believe I've ever seen this place before in my life. Where are we?" demanded she.

The Hatter glanced up at the tree as he replied, "Weather is a...funny thing. And it's a shame that you've never been here before. It's a very nice place."

Alyssa smiled, "I'm not denying that it is, it's just all very odd, you see."

"I don't, actually. From here everything looks rather Normal,"

She sat down on the green grass, "Well then, it must just be a matter of perspective, I suppose." The Hatter joined her in sitting down, and they were silent for about thirty seconds as Alyssa fought the urge to ask him questions. Her determination ultimately gave in to her curiosity as she asked him, "Why are we here?"

He looked around, "I told you, it's a very nice place. That's why."

She sighed, "No, I mean, what are we doing here? Is there any purpose to it?"

"If you meant to ask that then you should have said that in the first place!" he exclaimed. She rolled her eyes and couldn't help but think that Chesh had been right when he told her that it would be a busy day. "But, to answer your question, I guess it just seems like an excellent place for a picnic."

Alyssa's stomach grumbled at the mention of food, "A picnic?" she repeated, wondering where on Earth he was going to get anything to eat, as they didn't bring any food with them.

At least, she was pretty sure they hadn't, yet when she glanced over at the Hatter, she saw that he was idly sipping from a teacup. She stared at him, wondering where the foreign porcelain had come from.

"What?" he asked her, for he was quite aware of her open glance at him, "Can't a person just drink a cup of tea in peace?"

"Where did you get that?" she asked. He made no effort to reply, only took another long draught of tea.

"Would you like some?" and at this she nodded her head vigorously. Her insides also chose that moment to become quite vocal about the lack of food, and the Hatter, hearing this, only shook his head and reached behind him, producing a plate filled with tea sandwiches as well as an additional cup for Alyssa. She accepted both gratefully, and began gorging herself on the tiny, crustless delicacies, pausing only occasionally to wash them down with tea.

When she finally slowed her eating, she looked over and saw the Hatter staring at her, and realized that he hadn't eaten anything.

"Aren't you hungry?" She moved the plate of food towards him.

He shook his head, "Not really."

Alyssa only uttered a soft, "Oh," unsure of what to say. Rather than fill the silence with awkward conversation, she opted to lay down on the grass and look through the leaves at the clear blue sky. _Wait a minute, it was just raining! How can the sky have possibly cleared up already?_ she thought. _Curiouser and curiouser._

The Hatter finished up his tea and flung the cup away, then flopped onto his stomach and laid next to her. He picked at the grass for a while, with no concern at all that his gloves would be covered in green stains, then he sighed, and began concentrating very hard on staring straight ahead. She glanced over and studied him for some time, allowing herself to take in the soft violet of his eyes, to study the many freckles that dotted his cheeks and his wonderfully round nose, and notice just what an unusual combination of color his hair was: a very vibrant orange-red color, streaked randomly with long white hairs, as if the individual strands had simply decided they no longer liked the color they were and refused to produce any more pigmentation. It waved and curled slightly in a way that looked as though the hair had been purposefully styled, even though Alyssa questioned if he even spent any time making it look that way. Despite its bizarre appearance, Alyssa wanted nothing more than to touch the part that peeked out from under his hat and discover if it felt as luxurious as it looked.

"You're awfully quiet," he interrupted her thoughts. "I thought you'd be asking me a great many questions."

She squinted her eyes up at the sky, looking for clouds, "I really don't know where to begin. I was hoping you'd be able to catch me up all by yourself."

"How am_ I_ supposed to know what _you_ want to know?" he scoffed, looking at her incredulously.

She sat up and crossed her arms over her chest, "Just tell me what's important!"

"What's important is all a matter of opinion," he told her as he flipped over onto his back and tossed his hat aside, placing his hands underneath his head for support. "Just tell me what you're curious about."

"But I'm curious about so many things!" she blurted, her frustration catching her by surprise. He tilted his head up to look at her, and said,

"Begin at the beginning,"

"I can't even remember when the beginning really was," she admitted, her hands supporting her head as her fingers massaged her temples.

He moved himself so that he was leaning casually against the tree, "I believe it was the instance with the White Rabbit."

"Oh, that's right," she whispered, pausing to think. "He said..." and she trailed off, unsure of how best to continue.

"He said...?" the Hatter prompted.

"He said something about my birthday." The Hatter noticeably cringed. "How I keep celebrating it and going back to Wonderland? I'm not really sure, it was all so confusing!" She stopped again to catch her breath, "What does my birthday have anything to do with Wonderland?" she asked, then caught herself, "Assuming, of course, that such a place even exists."

The Hatter ignored her last comment, "Wow, you really haven't been told anything, have you?"

"No, I haven't! And I would greatly appreciate some clarification!" she replied indignantly.

The Hatter rubbed the back of his neck, "Don't panic," he said.

She became instantly alarmed, "Don't panic? DON'T PANIC? What is there to panic about?"

"Nothing! I think," he said, leaning forward, his arms extended as if that would somehow calm her, "This might sound a bit strange, is all," he explained.

"At this rate I don't think anything you tell me will sound strange,"

"Well, that's a good sign, I suppose," he mumbled, and leaned back against the tree. He sighed, plucked a blade of grass, and looked towards the sky before saying, "The first time you visited Wonderland was two hundred years ago."

Alyssa blinked, visibly blanching, "What?" she uttered softly, "That's not possible."

"It's possible if you're given second chances," he said, looking back at her, "Or, in your case, multiple chances,"

"Multiple chances? You mean to say I've been reincarnated?" she squeaked.

He shook his head, "I don't think it works like that. It's more that you just haven't gotten it right the first few times around, and so someone decided to let you try again."

"Gotten what right?" she questioned, her shock giving way to cold disbelief. "And who is to judge whether or not I've lived my life accordingly?"

He shrugged, "A higher power, I suppose," and then he quietly added, "I think the problem is that you never stay. You always go back."

Without knowing why, Alyssa felt a sudden urge to apologize to him, for he appeared so downtrodden and sullen that it seemed like the right thing to do. She suppressed the feeling, though, in lieu of thinking about all of this new information.

"So, I keep dying before I can...do whatever it is I'm supposed to do?" she clarified.

"Something like that," he replied. "But it seems that this time is...different," he added.

With that, Alyssa considered her questions largely answered, and as she could think of no new ones, she only nodded her head and laid back down on the grass, just in time to see a large, puffy cloud pass by.

She pointed to it, "Do you see that?" she asked the man. He laid down next to her again and stared at where she was pointing. "It looks sort of like a flying house,"

"What's making it fly?" She pointed out another set of clouds just above the house-shaped cloud.

"Balloons."

They smiled at each other, and broke out into peals of laughter. The next few hours were devoted to pointing out clouds, calling out shapes, and laughing hysterically at all of the funny things clouds could become if one let them, until, rather suddenly, the Hatter declared that it was time to move down.

* * *

><p>She hesitated for a moment, drawn towards the deep pacific blue of the water beneath them, wondering just how silly and foolish and delightfully soothing it might all feel. He, for his part, noticed this not; instead, he simply rolled up his shirt sleeves, followed by his pant legs until they stopped just under his knee, then promptly attempted to remove his socks, only to realize that his shoes were keen on getting in the way that afternoon. He was so very focused on this now rather difficult task that he never once noticed her bending down and untying the laces. It was only when she began to gently remove the shoe that he became aware of her; his violet eyes snapped back into focus as sharply as he looked at her face, then back to what her hands were occupied with.<p>

"What are you doing?" he inquired, still looking on at her self-bequeathed task with interest.

"Just trust me," she assured as she finally managed to wrestle the heel of the shoe away from the foot it protected. The shoe came off easily and she rested it just behind them on the wood. "Now try it again," she spoke, more in a whisper. When he made no effort to obey her, she glanced up at his face and saw the intense disbelief that was drawn there; she simply smiled her best reassuring smile. That was all it took for him to decide to indulge her, for he clearly still thought her wits had been scattered with the blossoms the light breeze picked up. He moved slowly, as if waiting for her disappointment to show when it didn't work, only to his surprise, the sock continued down past his ankle and soon was entirely off of his foot, the swirly pattern now limp in his hands. His eyes widened visibly and his mouth parted slightly in a vertical oval shape. It was a moment until his voice caught up to him.

"Alice, that was simply amazing!" he declared, "You must do that with this one too!" and he promptly shoved his remaining shoed foot in her face with an expectant grin playing about his mouth. She sighed and set to work on the laces, this time with his full and rapt attention at her work. When the sock again came off, this one made of multi-colored stripes, he simply shook his head in bewildered delight and set the shoe and sock with the other half of his belongings. She watched as he scooted his bum to the very edge of the seemingly unstable platform and stretched out his legs straight in front of him, making the most perfect "L" she had ever seen. He slowly lowered his legs, and, just as they were about to hit the still river beneath him, he flexed his right foot and extended the very tip of his big toe to just hit the water, testing it. She saw his transfixed state at the way his very minimal movement had caused the water to create shooting, rhythmical circles, and everything was very still for a long, silent moment.

Suddenly, he plunged both feet into the water, causing it to rise slightly, a few of the droplets scattering like a blood spatter that reached from across his thighs to his nose, and he shook his head to rid it of the annoyance. He grinned up at her, expecting her to meet his delight, and instead his face fell as he saw that, while she didn't seem upset, she also didn't appear to be in the most pleasant sort of mood, either. His head tilted to the right in a silent inquiry.

"You know why I'm annoyed," she simply stated, for she thought it was rather obvious. He shook his head vehemently, his eyes widening a bit upon discovering that the emotion she currently felt was annoyed. It made no sense to him as to why she should be annoyed when everything right now was rather perfect, save for the lack of tea. "You called me Alice. I thought we had talked about that. My name is Alyssa, Mr. Hatter."

"Oh, but it isn't!" he declared, then colored slightly, and stammered out a quick apology, stumbling over the words a bit in his rush to get them out. "I suppose I was just caught up in the excitement of it all and forgot," he said, and she detected the dabble of something cold and sad in his statement, his tone reminding her of a snowman that had long been abandoned. "It's just so difficult to remember to call you Alyssa. It's such a long and confusing name; I like Alice much better."

She pondered for a minute, he returned to his previous activity as she thought the situation over. Finally, she had a thought that seemed to her to be a solution to what would undoubtedly be a problem.

"I think I know what we should do about this," she told him as she sat down next to him, her hands gripping tightly to the side of the bridge; she could almost feel the rotting wood give slightly under her fingers. He looked at her; she felt he could only look more excited if she had said that she had somehow stashed a cup of tea on her person.

"And what might that be, A-lyss-a?" he said, carefully enunciating each and every syllable of her name as if trying to see if this would help him remember it better.

"I would like to propose that we two give me a nickname, one that could be short for both Alyssa and for Alice, that way neither of us will be confused when speaking about myself."

"Oh, what a splendid idea! What shall we call you?"

"I would like it very much if you wouldn't mind just calling me 'Lyss'."

"Lyss?"

"Yes. Lyss."

She saw him turn over the word in his mind for a while, saw his lips silently forming the word over and over, testing out what it would be like to call her that. He nodded to her, and their conversation would have been over then, except for that the Hatter suddenly shot his hand out and grabbed her foot. She shrieked, and may have asked him what he was doing, but he heard none of it, for he was too focused on his mission of shoe removal. It was far more complicated than it looked, for these shoes had no laces, yet somehow stayed attached to her foot through some bizarre clasp-like contraption. Alyssa, for her part, was much too focused on keeping her skirt down than giving him any advice as to how to proceed with such an odd choice of footwear, and so, when he finally did figure out that the straps somehow threaded through this clasp, he flung the shoe away from his hand so that he could clap and celebrate himself in the most amusing fashion. Thus, with this gesture, Alyssa's shoe found itself floating along the river just in front of the two. Alyssa was positively horrified and made several loud proclamations, many of which contained words the Hatter had never heard of, and he instead leaned out over the water to gaze at the sight, for he had always assumed that shoes were wont to sink. After observing it for some time, he fetched it out of the water and handed it to Alyssa, who had removed the other shoe as well, seeing as there was simply no way she was going to walk around with a wet shoe on her foot, and there was no way that she would hobble around in just one like a figure escaping the final strokes of an ominous clock.

"Well?" he said.

"Well, what?" she replied, rather confused at his sudden question, and hoping that he wouldn't ask her the reason as to why her shoe had floated, for she rather was not in the mood of explaining why on Earth (or Wonderland) she would have a shoe made out of cork, for corks were what topped champagne bottles, not feet.

"Aren't you going to put your feet in the water?"

Alyssa, momentarily thrown off by his question, as it was not at all what she had anticipated, looked around; there was no one here save them two, and if she fell in, it would not be so terribly embarrassing in front of him. She tentatively lengthened her leg so that her toes might reach the water, for this was as far as she would allow herself to reach, and then lengthened the other so that her legs and feet could be a matching set.

The Hatter, though he may have been easily distracted and off, noticed her hands turn white as she maneuvered herself thus; he reached out a gloved hand and took up her left hand in his right, for he had read somewhere that people tend to feel considerably reassured at the touch of someone they trust.

Alyssa looked at him, shocked that he had somehow taken her hand, and surprised at how soothing it was to have his thumb lightly skirt the top of it. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and felt herself involuntarily relax into a position much closer to him than she intended; though not quite shoulder to shoulder with him, she could feel the heat rise off of him through his white dress shirt. She allowed herself to study the hand for a while, to take in the way the white glove formed to his hand perfectly and then widened a bit at his wrist before ending entirely. Still gazing on the glove, she found her other hand had suddenly come up to the one clasped in his, and, as if on their own accord, her hands tugged at the glove until his bare hand was exposed to the spring air. Her right hand held onto the glove and her left took his right to study its now bare form.

The entire time, she never saw how sharply he studied her, his chest puffed out a bit to keep in the breath of air he never knew he had ever held in. She had never seen his bare hands; truth be told, he was a bit embarrassed by their rough appearance. Such was the downfall of his artistry. He slightly felt her fingers touching the rough calluses on the edges of his fingertips and the part of his palm where the fingers connected to the hand- the areas were numbed by years of repetitive motions- and he felt the warmth her hand gave his when, finally exhausted with her studies, she grasped the hand tightly in hers, and his caught breath finally released itself from its lunged cage.

"I feel rather silly," she suddenly spoke, her gaze looking out over the river, and it was then that he could see the bit of pink that touched her cheeks. He instinctively knew that the color did not come from the breeze surrounding them.

"Do you? I haven't felt silly in a long time," was his reply.

"You haven't?" she said, surprise lingering at the end of her question.

"Did you really ever expect me to? It's a feeling as rare as a birthday celebration in Wonderland," he informed her. Silence stretched itself between them for a short while, as if it had just woken up from a nap it intended to return to.

"Do you miss it?" she questioned, her curiosity piqued.

"Not at all! The fear of being silly often holds us back."

"Do you think it's holding me back?" she dared to ask after repeating his reply over in her head several times. His violet gaze caught hers, and he saw the curiosity and fear swirling in the blue. He never replied to her question, for the answer hung in the air, and all she had to do was grab it to know. The Hatter realized, as he was staring at her, that he would have very much liked to do something to reassure her that he was real, that everything was real, that she needn't fear, but he could think of nothing that would not be interpreted as being too forward.

They simply held each other's gaze like that for a good long time, not saying but a few words here and there to each other, with he occasionally muttering nonsense about mustard and complicated mathematical numbers in relation to haberdashery. They spent the rest of the day like this, until the breeze became a bit too cold and Alyssa, as she was wearing nothing but her skirt and shirt, began to complain a bit about the goosebumps that were gathering on her arms. They regrettably dried their feet and put their shoes in their proper places, and the Hatter unrolled his shirtsleeves and pant legs. His glove returned to its position on his right hand, still a gleaming white, as though Alyssa had never touched it with her dirty, bridge-rot covered hand.

There was one garment, however, that did not get back to the right place until they had returned to Alyssa's apartment. Instead, while it did find itself in the proper general area, it seemed that the person it had been bestowed to was far more slender than the owner, and had shorter hands and arms, and much narrower shoulders. The person was also much shorter, for, when the garment was in the right place, it ended just about the rightful owner's knees, and in its current place, it found that it was curiously ending somewhere around the mid-calf.

The wearer of the garment did not seem to mind one bit, and, though he found it an unusual sight, the owner discovered that he did not mind either.

* * *

><p>"Do you want to know what the first thing I ever said to you was?" he asked, uncharacteristically quiet and still given that the man had just that morning made a habit out of jumping on her bed and bumping into the various objects in her abode.<p>

She rolled her eyes, "Was it 'hello'?" she ventured to guess.

"Nope," was his simple response. He continued to simply stand where he was. Alyssa tried to ignore him by doing the dishes that always seemed to be piled up in her sink. After five minutes of him being perfectly still and perfectly mute, she finally released a sigh and asked him what it was. She had never been one to deny her curiosity once something struck her interest.

"I told you that your hair wanted cutting," he said, a small smile creeping onto his face. He was obviously pleased that he had finally waited her out.

"That's a curious thing to say. How could you possibly know if my hair needed to be cut or not?"

"Well, you see, I had met you before," he began, his smile vanishing a bit as a rosy color crawled its way onto his cheeks, "It was one visit prior to that one. You were much older then. I mean, compared to when I first spoke to you. I suppose you were actually the same age when you first entered Wonderland as you are now."

"Why didn't you say anything to me the first time?" she questioned, the dishes in the sink long forgotten as she listened to the haberdasher reveal more about her supposed past, one that, for some reason, she was finding more and more believable by the minute.

"Well, Lyss, you see..." he trailed off and mumbled something under his breath.

"What did you say, Mr. Hatter?" Alyssa asked, moving past the small counter that separated the kitchen from the living room to be closer to him.

He slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers and drew a comically deep breath, then looked away towards her bookshelf, "It's nothing."

They stood in silence for a long time, and Alyssa couldn't help but realize that this was the most still she had ever seen the man, for even at the bridge that day he still fidgeted around quite a bit.

He interrupted her thoughts abruptly as he began to hum softly to himself, a tune that Alyssa didn't recognize, and rightfully so, for the tune was of a strictly Wonderland nature. She said nothing as he suddenly walked over to her coffee table and moved it to the side, clearing the small space. He walked back over to her and bowed slightly, his left arm extended towards her in a silent proposal to dance with him. Half startled and half unsure, but mostly just amused, Alyssa took his hand and he led her to the center of the room in a slow waltz, no doubt in an effort for her to become comfortable with the movement. He gradually picked up speed, even twirled her for a bit, humming his tune all the while. Eventually, she couldn't help the happy, gurgling giggle that burst from her lips as their dancing continued, and his violet eyes crinkled to match his growing grin. _A grin that large should belong to the Cheshire Cat_, she thought to herself, more laughter escaping as a result of such a silly thought, for Chesh's grin was much larger than Hatter's. They continued to dance, Alyssa losing herself in all of the spins and twirls they were doing, but looking trustingly at the Hatter all the while, her clear blue eyes never once leaving his violet ones. Eventually the Hatter stopped humming, and the spinning stopped, and they were now simply staring at each other, her looking up, him looking down. They stayed like that for some time, Alyssa partially afraid that he might vanish like all of the other ones had. Finally, she stood as high on her toes as her feet would allow, and silently kissed him on the nose as a small token of thanks for their impromptu performance. She saw the blush on his face spread from the exact point she had kissed him all the way to the tips of his ears and smiled softly to herself.

It was then that she noticed that their bodies were still poised to continue waltzing. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and regrettably removed the hand that was balanced carefully in his. Alyssa then moved her hands around his waist and gently hugged him. The Hatter hesitated for a few brief moments, then lowered his arms and hugged her back, his head lowering to rest on hers. He closed his eyes, willing the moment to live on for forever, praying that somebody somewhere had murdered Time and that he could be with his Alice just like this for all eternity. In the silence of the moment, he could hear the grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticking, and opening his eyes, he saw just how close midnight was. He felt a silent breath escape his lips. He simply hated losing her; every time felt just like the first.

If only she would believe what everyone was telling her and return to where she belonged.

He sniffled a bit, and Alyssa heard it and immediately, albeit awkwardly, whirled around to look at the clock, then back at the Hatter. His eyes told her everything; he was going to leave, he had to. She knew he had no choice, but even so, she felt that his leaving would be a tremendous loss. She buried her head into his coat, trying desperately to reassure herself that he was real. His right hand reached up and met her left and he held her there for a bit, until, with ten seconds to spare, he walked her over to the wall and leaned her against it in the hope that, when he vanished, she wouldn't collapse onto the carpet.

All too soon, the clock struck twelve, and, still holding her hand until the end, the Hatter disappeared right before Alyssa's eyes. It was then that she let out a few silent tears, for she hadn't expected herself to actually start believing all of this nonsense, and she was horribly confused about how illogical it all was. She picked herself up, stumbled her way to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, feeling torn and completely overwhelmed by her strong desire to go to wherever it was that these creatures kept disappearing to.

It wasn't until the morning, when Alyssa finally woke up, that she saw that, still clutched tightly in her left hand, was the Hatter's silky white right-hand glove.

_The first and only true friend I may ever have_, she thought.

Alyssa received no visitors that day, neither of Earth nor of Wonderland. As distressing as it was for a young, curious woman to be bedridden all day long, it was truly for the better. Had one of her friends found her in that state, it would have required so much explaining that she didn't want to go into, and Alyssa had been raised with a firm belief that lying was rude. Had a creature of Wonderland visited her, Alyssa would have simply ignored it; at the moment, she was in no state to listen to utter nonsense, and besides, her ears were plugged up anyway.

She left her apartment only once that day, for she was in dire need of something to eat and drink. Upon returning home, she discovered that her body rejected every food except for soup._ Oh joy_, she thought, sarcasm almost leaking out of her ears, _nothing to eat but beautiful soup_. She glanced at the bowl distastefully, feeling very down, and she watched as her silent tears slid free of her face and plunged into the soup, mingling and mixing with the once canned contents.

As she shoveled the reheated broth into her mouth, Alyssa did not turn around to face the open window with the broken screen, or look around her kitchen at the various pots and miscellaneous spoons strewn along the counter and the tiled floor. Had she done this, she would have seen that a turtle, of all things, had managed to crawl its way up to her window sill in an absolute defiance of logic and gravity. It stayed for a very short while, and simply padded back and forth very slowly from one end of the window to the other, trying very hard to keep an eye on Alyssa but inevitably, its attention on her dissolved into attention on itself, for this turtle had a great many woes and often lamented about them at every available opportunity, which was always. It eventually remembered why it was there, and, upon further observation of Alyssa, it decided that its services would be rendered obsolete, and it promptly added this to its long list of woes. It left as silently as it had appeared, going back from whence it came, and Alyssa was none the wiser.

Later, however, when she finally decided to at least close the window, Alyssa would discover that her sill was covered in water, which was a very curious thing, seeing as lawn sprinklers could not reach her window, and it hadn't rained at all that day.

A curious thing, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Here it is, finally! Chapter Four is yours for the reading. I just wanted to take this opportunity to profusely thank both of my beta readers, who are so amazingly wonderful and stupendous and I can't say enough good things about them, and __also my reviewers: __**James Birdsong** and **I bleed Ink**_ _here on fanfiction, and **sacchariferous3** and **incandescent7** on livejournal. I greatly appreciate that you have taken the time to tell me your thoughts, and I hope you all stick around! _

_Please let me know what your thoughts are either here or on my livejournal (a link can be found in my profile). Feedback inspires me, and when I'm inspired, I write, so it is in everyone's interests to do so. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"Surrounded. Let's romanticize our beloved memories.<br>Surrounded. Let's demonize our softest injuries.  
>Surrounded. Can we get behind distortion and liberties?<br>Surrounded. We're surrounded, spiraling.  
>Is it perfect in our little hell?"<p>

-Silversun Pickups' _Surrounded (or Spiraling)_

* * *

><p>It seemed to take every ounce of energy she had just to get out of bed the next day. If she had it her way, in bed she would have remained, perhaps just reading and drifting all afternoon, with plenty of tea and plenty of rest as a cure. Unfortunately, the human tolerance for such liquids is only so high, and inevitably, she found that she had to go to the bathroom that morning. Removing herself from the warmth of her sheets was at least a five minute ordeal; her sore muscles had long ago decided that they would not cooperate with any movement that Alyssa might try to make them do. Her joints popped and stretched as she meandered the short distance from her room to the bathroom, her eyes half-lidded and her skin pale. She paused for a moment at the counter to check her appearance in the mirror, for she imagined that she must have looked completely awful and wanted visual proof. Her mirror seemed funny, however; it was a light blue color and very much opaque rather than clear and reflective as a good mirror ought to be.<p>

Alyssa frowned. The mirror seemed to be swirling in spiral pattern, like a whirlpool.

She turned to the medicine cabinet and frantically searched for her cold medicine, trying to remember just how much she had taken the night before. _Shouldn't that have worn off by now? Am I drugged? Did I drug myself?_ she mentally panicked as she checked the dosage. All appeared to be fine; in fact, she had taken less medication than the bottle suggested. Alyssa blinked, shook her head, rubbed her eyes, all to no avail. The mirror appeared the same.

Tentatively she reached out a shaking hand to touch it, withdrawing slightly just before her fingertips would have grazed it. _Do you really want to know?_ she asked herself.

She sighed aloud._ Yes._

Bravely she laid her bare left hand against the cool surface of the mirror (as her right hand was currently entrapped in the glove of the Hatter).

She waited.

Nothing happened.

She exhaled in relief and laughing, she leaned forward, touching her forehead to the once-reflective surface. It was shockingly cold, and she moved to put her right hand on her forehead to guard it from the frozen blue mirror. Her right hand touched the mirror's surface.

And immediately went through the mirror.

Alyssa let out a hoarse scream and tried to back away, but something had caught hold of her hand and was tugging on it, yanking. She was jerked forward and had it not been for the counter she would have fallen right through the mirror itself. A miniature tug-of-war ensued, with Alyssa trying to retrieve her hand from beyond the mirror and the whatever-it-was on the other side trying to pull her through.

"NO!" she screamed, giving one final, successful yank, as the force of her pull caused her to fly back against the wall of the bathroom. She looked up at the mirror, breathing heavily, and could have sworn that a face was looking back at her before it disappeared entirely. Her right hand was now bare; whatever had been on the other side had taken the glove back. The one item of incorrigible proof had been whisked away from her, forever swallowed up by the strange mirror. She watched as the mirror slowly reverted back to its normal state of clear reflectiveness, and noticed with horror that the very last thing to disappear was an enormous, floating grin and two eyes. One winked at her before it too vanished, and Alyssa blanched, her stomach suddenly disagreeing strongly with her, and she quickly crawled over to the toilet and vomited.

Admittedly, she felt much better afterwards.

* * *

><p>Later that day, after going out and about for a while, Alyssa found herself back in the bathroom, squeezing herself onto the small counter space, staring fixedly into the mirror. She blinked at her own reflection in surprise; in truth, she hadn't quite meant to be doing this. Looking around her, she realized that she really had no purpose to be in the room in the first place, and yet, here she inexplicably was. Her cheek was resting against the surface of the mirror; it was far more warm than it had been that morning, but still remained overall cooler than the surrounding air. She sighed deeply, her chest nearly connecting to her ribcage with the amount of breath she expelled. Warily she reached out her right hand to touch the smooth, shiny surface. A large part of her felt terrified that she would fall through again (only this time, there was no counter in the way to prevent her from going right through), and yet she did it anyway.<p>

She met her own eyes in her reflection. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

Her hand connected with the mirror, her fingers slowly spread out to take up as much space as she could. She waited, for what, she wasn't sure, but it seemed that something should have happened. Yet nothing did, and she found herself frowning and furrowing her eyebrows as a result.

_You wanted something to happen, didn't you?_ she mentally questioned her reflection. She bit her lower lip and glanced back at her hand, for she had yet to move it. She shook her head, _Nothing is going to happen. This is all so foolish_, she told herself. But the hand remained firmly where it was, like it had been glued to the spot, waiting. Impatiently, her index finger idly tapped against the glass. Alyssa hadn't expected anything to happen as a result, and so was quite startled when, on the third tap, a ripple of icy blue shot out from beneath her hand and worked to the edge of the mirror. She leaned back and removed her hand to cover her open mouth, watching wide-eyed as the strange ripple grew larger and larger until it finally disappeared past the edge of the mirror.

Alyssa remained like that for a while, until her curiosity finally recovered and she sat up and started tapping the mirror like a woodpecker does a tree, delighting in the ripples rather than shying away from them. She briefly repressed a laugh, then looked around her and remembered that no one else was there, and she allowed herself to laugh out loud at her goofiness and sheer enjoyment. Finally, she slowed down her little game, moved her hands so that they were touching each other and the mirror, and leaned her head against them, still giggling occasionally, shaking her head at herself yet grinning madly all the while.

It was during this respite that she first began to notice that the mirror was warming, and not just from her own body heat. The small area surrounding her hands was glowing a faint orange-red; it was beautiful and fascinating, and Alyssa could not bring herself to be particularly alarmed by this development. Instead she remained where she was, feeling the heat warm her hands considerably, wondering what had caused this sudden temperature change. She moved her right hand to a place above her head, testing the mirror to see if the same would happen there. It did indeed; after shooting out a few cold ripples, the mirror again turned color, but only after the area where her right hand had been was returned to normal. Something or someone had shifted, and with her own hand. Alyssa moved her left hand, and the same occurred. She frowned, thoroughly confused as to what was causing such a strange thing to happen.

It was upon further inspection of the heated glass that Alyssa noticed that it was hand shaped, and not just in a way that made it seem like an expansion of her own hand. There was something familiar about it, something that called to mind dark, rich spices and an almost unnoticeable, but sharp, mint. She brought her hands together again, and the thing followed suit. Up above the hands, something was appearing; it was different than the cool ripples, it seemed more like a thick opaque fog with a very certain pattern. As she watched, it looked like the fog was creating a cursive letter "H", and as it kept swirling, she could only smile. She waited patiently for the swirling to stop, and read it out loud to herself.

"Hello, Lyss," she spoke. She traced the name with her finger.

Only one person that she knew called her that.

Alyssa pressed her lips to the mirror and whispered back, "Hello, Mr. Hatter," She had no idea if that would work, but she figured that at this point, she really had nothing to lose. Still smiling, she waited patiently, when a voice suddenly spoke from inside of her ear.

"Hello, Alice," it said.

She was so startled that she yelped, smacked her hand against her ear, fell backwards off of the counter, and hit her head against the wall, knocking herself out. The last thing she remembered hearing was, "You might make a joke on that..." before her world went dark.

* * *

><p>Cold. Her arm. She couldn't feel her arm. It was asleep. Her head was lying on it. Her head. Her head. Goodness, it <em>hurt<em>.

Alyssa carefully felt around her head, noticing with a wince and a gasp that there was a large bump protruding from the back. She slowly stood herself up, momentarily overcome with dizziness, and faced the mirror, turning her neck at all sorts of odd angles, trying to see if the injury was noticeable.

_What time is it?_ she thought, wondering how long she had been knocked out for. Her memory felt fuzzy; she couldn't remember how she had ended up on the floor or even why. _Something about a voice..._

She walked out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen, still feeling the tender bump as she did so. Walking up to the fridge, she opened her freezer and fumbled for an ice pack or some frozen peas, desperate to soothe the inflammation. When she finally found a small package of frozen strawberries buried far back on the bottommost shelf, she exclaimed victoriously and applied the fruit to her bump, the chilling sensation providing immediate relief. She sat back on the floor, with the freezer door still open, and sighed in contentment, pleasantly numbed by the ice. The cool air from the freezer drifted gently over her, and it was with a twinge of regret that she soon closed it, for she could only pay for so much. Her joints popped as she stood up, still clutching the bag to her head, and she turned around to go to her bedroom and lie down for a while. As she turned, she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye, dwelling in the corner behind her chair, blending with the shadow that formed between the walls and the floor. She slowly stepped forward, wariness and caution telling her to take it slow. The whatever-it-was was making a strange whirring, clicking sound, and as she got closer, the fidgeting increased. She stopped at the edge of her table, her free hand resting lightly on the surface, and peered closely into the darkness.

What she saw made her jump back in surprise, drop the frozen strawberries, run to the counter, grab a frying pan from her dish rack, and leap onto the counter, taking a defensive position against the huge _thing_. She watched, eyes wide, as the creature slowly crawled out of the darkness and made its way towards her. It revealed itself in the afternoon light; it was a giant gnat, at least the size of a full-grown chicken.

Alyssa swung her frying pan in front of her, "Stay where you are!" she demanded, her voice wavering as her fear towards the giant insect broke through.

"You could make a joke on that," it replied softly, hovering a few inches off the ground, "Something about here nor there," it suggested. The lulling drone of its wings beating together was oddly comforting, hypnotic, and Alyssa found herself lowering her guard-and her frying pan-despite the rather unnatural situation. The pan clanged as it connected with the counter, now loosely held by the handle.

"A joke?" she asked. "Why would I make a joke?" The gnat rose higher, now eye level with Alyssa. The drone of its wings were deafening; she could hardly hear it quietly whisper out something about laughter, joy, and eternity. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that-"

"Catch what? I didn't throw anything," it said.

Alyssa sighed. She was tiring of these word games, "I meant to say that I didn't hear you. Could you repeat yourself?"

The gnat's head only drooped in response, and it shook its head sadly. Alyssa watched as two large tears fell from its eyes, and she immediately shied away from the small puddle on her floor, her defenses back up. She closed her eyes. There was something very...frightening...

She shook her head. Sometimes her imagination was truly out of control. When she felt her head had been sufficiently cleared, she opened her eyes, expecting to see the strange creature still floating in front of her. What she saw, however, was nothing at all, only the space between her counter and the wall (and a package of frozen strawberries). The puddle of tear water remained, reflecting the ceiling in its watery surface. She peered around her kitchen, craning her neck to check the various nooks and crannies.

"H-hello?" she spoke, terrified of what the response might be. There was silence for a long time, and she put the pan back in the drying rack, the clank of metal hitting metal making her twitch. She called out again, "Is anyone there?" Once again all that met her was the stillness of the apartment. Alyssa exhaled, then noticed that her ear was itchy, and so she reached up to scratch it. Just as she did, the silence of the room was broken by the hourly melody of her grandfather clock, startling the frazzled girl. She jumped and fell off the counter, a strange sense of deja vu overcoming her as she hit the floor.

_I've got to stop doing that_, she thought, and then noticed the time. Three o'clock. Three o'clock...she had something to do that day, didn't she? Something at night...

"Oh, bloody _hell_," she cursed, and she reached out to grab the strawberries, reapplied them to her head, and ran to her room to ready herself for a very important date. She flung open her closet, lamenting at the fact that despite all of her clothes, she had nothing to wear, nothing that would suit such an important meeting, anyway.

"Try the black skirt with the cream top," a voice in her ear suggested. She screamed, wondering if she had finally gone mad, until she felt something small moving out of the cavity. A buzzing sound filled her ear, and just as soon as it had begun, it faded, and she noticed something tiny and black floating in front of her. Alyssa peered at it more closely; the shape was quite familiar, and finally it dawned on her that only minutes before, the buzzing black dot had been a chicken-sized insect.

"You might make a joke on that," she replied with a faint sneer, for she was still rather cautious of the creature, "Something about black and white."

The insect flew near her ear to respond, "I would much rather you do that instead," it told her. She pondered for a moment, trying to recall if she even knew any jokes with such a specific set of guidelines, until one finally dawned on her.

"What's black and white and goes round and around?" she asked.

"What?" came the bug's response.

"A penguin in a revolving door."

A strange, gasping, wheezing sound was heard, and Alyssa could only assume that this was the gnat's laugh. It was certainly very off-putting and concerning, and she took a step back to distance herself from the buzzing insect. She turned to her closet and searched for the items of clothing the gnat had suggested, figuring that it was a good form of distraction from the oddness of it all (though, really, was it terribly strange to talk to an insect if it talked back?). The black skirt was procured quickly, and after much digging around, she finally found her cream top buried underneath a pile of clothing, barely sticking out among the other shirts above it. She frowned, a mildly concerning thought dawning upon her.

"How did you know I had these items?" she questioned the gnat, suspicion and wariness leaking into her voice.

"You were asleep for quite a while. I was rather bored," was his whispered reply.

"Ah," She was feeling rather distrustful of the flying creature, a true feeling of discomfort and uneasiness was rising with every minute he remained. A glance at the clock informed her that there was still quite a while before midnight, and she sighed, unwilling to wait out the hours until he went away. The silky fabric of the shirt in her hands recalled her attention, and, though he was merely an insect, Alyssa discovered that she was greatly uncomfortable with the idea of changing in front of the bug, particularly one that she had been conversing with. "I'm sorry, but would you mind leaving?" she asked him, "I'd like to get ready in peace, please."

No reply was given except for the faint buzzing of him flying away, and she carefully kept her eye on him as he flew out of the room, and she promptly shut the door with a _snick_ for good measure. She turned her back to it and leaned against it, feeling the weight of the day drag her down until she was sitting on the hardwood floor. Her head felt like a spinning top; her thoughts looping and rotating around in her head, making it immensely difficult to focus on anything but the larger image of it all. She carefully set the clothing down on her lap and rubbed her temples, massaging away the incoherencies of her life and her dizzying misappropriation of reality, for surely such strange occurrences could only be caused by a dreadfully large and overeager imagination; such was an example of a time when Alyssa was in gross need of close companionship. Water rushed to her eyes, and despite her efforts to hold them at bay, a tear or two managed to escape and run down her cheek. She was horrifyingly reminded of the earlier incident in the kitchen with that awful gnat, and it was with a choking sob that she remembered that she was still stuck with him. With a heavy heart, and a grand feeling of misplacement, she slowly stood up and changed into the new outfit, glancing over into full-length mirror on occasion to ensure that everything looked proper. A few adjustments were made, and she considered calling out to the gnat to let him know that she was presentable, but then thought better of it, for she truly did not want to discuss anything with him at all.

She twisted her hair into a precise, blonde bun, a few thin tendrils falling out and framing her face; she took her index and middle fingers and curled the loose hair around them, too lazy to use a curling iron. Rummaging through her closet, she located her favorite pair of heels and slipped them on, relishing in their comfort and well-worn memories. She looked in the mirror again; something was still off. Her right hand drifted to her neck, just past her collarbone, connecting with the hard metal of her necklace. Alyssa couldn't remember the last time she had not worn it since it was given to her. She contemplated her image for a good long while, twirling the chain between her fingers, wondering if she should leave it behind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound; the gnat had returned. She heard a faint, "What are you waiting for?" and she only sighed in response, looking at the small black dot in the mirror hovering near her head. A glance at the clock informed her that she really ought to be getting a move on, and with one final, decisive look at herself, she reached behind her and unclasped the necklace, feeling the small birdcage leave her skin, and, as she walked out of the door, she placed it carefully on a table and set off without a second thought, not caring to notice that a certain foreign insect had followed her out.

* * *

><p>There was a restaurant by the name of À Contresens, and it made its money largely on being a rather unusual contradiction. On the outside, it appeared to be a terribly shabby place, but once one entered through its double doors, the place became a miniature palace of rich leather seats, enticing aromas, and chandeliers nice enough to double as jewelry. Each table was lit by candle, the chandeliers the only additional aid to those attempting to read the menu. Small, atmospheric chattering was heard; it was not too noisy nor too quiet; rather, the conversations of the other patrons was merely a constant, soft lull, a faint rumble, and was nothing that would ever cause one to be distracted from one's own conversation. The food was rich, the drinks always refreshing, and the staff just uppity enough to be discerning while still earning good tips.<p>

It was here that Alyssa drove to, with the intention of meeting up with a young man of noticeable attractiveness whom she had met whilst he was attempting to steal her favorite tree. After several accusatory interjections, the man-Jack was his name-had agreed to move on to another tree, with the stipulation that she would meet him at a later date for a possible romantic endeavor, and Alyssa, who was still quite out of sorts and rather distressed over the whole situation, agreed; truly, she had felt entirely taken advantage of. And so there the two were, sitting across from one another, saying things like "hole in the wall", "lovely atmosphere", "can you read what this says", and etcetera. Both had ordered and were just being served their drinks; though, by the looks of Jack's slightly rosy cheeks, he had already sipped from a few beforehand. Alyssa had her palm on the table as she carefully drank from her glass (her blouse _was_ cream coloured, after all, and, while the colour had certainly escaped Jack's attention, the blouse itself and the area it covered most assuredly had not), and just as she was putting her drink down, Jack reached over and laid his hand on top of hers. She shirked away from the touch, suddenly altogether uncomfortable and wary, and instead set her hand under her chin to act as a fleshy table. He appeared to take minor offense to this, and Alyssa blushed faintly.

_You're being ridiculous_, she scolded herself, _It's just a hand_. And yet she made no move to reach for him, content to remain as she was, and besides, were she being honest with herself, she didn't particularly want contact with Jack anyway. Something about his eyes-they were predatory, they were.

"Would you look at those chandeliers?" he wondrously asked, his voice filled with a rosy awe, "Makes the place look like another world entirely. Like a wonderland."

Alyssa immediately perked up, "What did you say?" she snapped, her heedful attitude towards the entire evening suddenly feeling quite justified. Jack's did a double take, clearly not expecting such malice about a simple subject, but he repeated himself, leaving out the bit about another world.

"No, no," she said, "After that. Something about world. About Wonderland," she clarified, a slight panic settling into her voice, making it rise higher and causing her to speak faster. Jack was obviously confused and overcome; one could nearly hear him think things like, _Good Lord, this woman is crazy_, and,_ What _have_ I gotten myself into_? She relaxed upon noticing this, and mumbled out an apology and a horribly contrived excuse, and took up her drink once again with a swig of regret over agreeing to the dinner.

"You could always just leave," a voice in her ear said, and she nearly spit our her drink in surprise.

"What?" she spoke aloud.

"I didn't say anything," Jack said, believing that she was directing her comment at him.

Alyssa's eyes grew wide; there was no getting out of this one easily, "I-I-thought maybe you had-said-something," she stuttered out, still focusing more on the insect in her ear than on her companion for the evening.

"You might make a joke on that-," she heard being whispered to her, and she sighed, becoming rather annoyed.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" Jack asked her, and she immediately shook her head and made something up about a good deal being on her mind, and if he would please excuse her, she rather had to go to the bathroom suddenly. She hurriedly stood and clicked her heels to the back of the restaurant near the kitchen, her hand pressed firmly against her right ear all the while, not noticing that as she walked away, Jack's gaze rested firmly on her legs. Upon entering the restroom, she firstly checked the stalls for any occupants, and then turned to the mirror and freed the gnat from her makeshift prison. He flew in a circle around her head, and she frowned at his reflection, so incredibly peeved that words escaped her.

"You-you-!" she began, unsure of how to continue.

The gnat flew by her ear, "You didn't want to be there anyway," he reassured, his thin, annoying voice for once being reasonable. She sighed.

"Truly I didn't," she spoke, "He's not the most entertaining of people, is he?"

"Indeed not," the gnat replied, "He was rather unentertaining, if I say so myself." His strange laugh was once again heard, and Alyssa questioned what he found so funny, "It's funny," he informed her, "Because I did _indeed_ say so myself." She only shook her head at him and joined in for a chuckle or two to humour him. The small chuckle turned into a guffaw, and soon she was laughing with the gnat rather heartily, suddenly overcome with just how humourous her situation was.

The laughter eventually died down, and Alyssa was faced with the fork in the road, "I don't wish to go back," she said.

"Then don't," her buggy friend answered. "Escape through the kitchen."

"The kitchen?"

"The kitchen."

Alyssa glanced at the bathroom door. She was far enough away from the table, it was quite possible that Jack wouldn't notice if she slipped quickly enough from the bathroom to the kitchen. Before she could debate it for too long and talk herself out of it, she found herself turning the handle and darting outside, quickly maneuvering herself past the ticked off wait staff and into the bowels of the food production line. She saw no apparent escape from there, and politely asked a rather large man with a very sharp knife where the exit was. He made no sound, only pointed his knife to a very nondescript door in the far corner of the room, and she rushed towards it, partly to escape her date, and mostly to avoid the knife.

She broke free of the kitchen confines and inhaled the outside air deeply, and as she shut it, she fell into a fit of giggles. Towards her car she ran, her laughter cutting through as she escaped the chill of the evening and her rather bad encounter with normality. She fidgeted for her keys, grateful that she had kept her purse with her, and unlocked the door, holding it open for a few extra seconds to ensure that the gnat was with her. Alyssa took a moment to herself, leaning forward onto the steering wheel, breathing shallowly.

"You might make a joke on that," said a familiar voice. She cut it off.

"I think we ought to just appreciate the situation for its comedy and move on," she said, starting the car and blasting the heat. She drove away from the restaurant, the occasional laugh escaping her, and she had never felt more sure of a decision in her life before then.

* * *

><p>It was past midnight; the gnat had long since disappeared. Alyssa had taken her hair down and changed out of her nice skirt and shirt, tucking them away for another day when they might receive more usage. She was wearing her pajamas: fleecy blue bottoms and a thermal top, and hadn't bothered with putting her bird cage necklace back on. However, as per her usual nightly routine, she was not in bed and reading; rather, she was sitting, with her arms around her legs, on the counter of her bathroom, staring at the mirror. She shifted a little, and for the most part avoided looking at the mirror, instead focusing on such important matters as toying with her fingers and absently twisting her hair.<p>

Alyssa was thinking rather large thoughts.

Finally, after nearly an hour of sitting on the counter, she made up her mind. She looked dead on into the mirror, as if trying to see past its reflective surface, and, with as much gumption as she could muster, she spoke, her voice wavering a little.

"I'm ready."

The mirror twisted and turned, the shoots of blue again returning, and Alyssa jumped off of the counter and backed against the wall, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle before her. One gloved hand reached through the mirror, followed by another bare hand, and they grabbed at the edge of the mirror, appearing to pull the owner through. A long leg was through next, followed by another, and then a torso, until finally the head of the person was revealed.

"You?" Alyssa said, almost accusatory in her question.

Chesh looked down at her from his perch, "Not who you were expecting, am I?" he said, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

Alyssa could only gulp.


	5. Chapter 5

_So sorry for the long delay between chapters, I've been busy and this chapter wasn't an easy one to write. But it's done now, and you can read and enjoy it! Happy reading, and please let me know what you thought in a review! Also, the beginning of this chapter is supposed to be confusing; just remember that there are a lot of things that you aren't supposed to fully understand just yet.  
><em>

* * *

><p>"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world."<p>

"There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind."

_-both are quotes from C.S. Lewis_

* * *

><p>There are a good many things in this life that we have need of a healthy dose of fear, otherwise our very lives tend to halt at a rather alarming and unexpected moment. Such things are often compiled into a very lengthy and boring mental list filled with numbers or bullet points-whichever is preferred by the mind thinking such things-and are generally visited rarely. When they are consulted, one is typically rather relieved to find that it contains things such as "if it smells like bitter almonds, it's probably bad", "fire ought to be avoided unless it is contained", and "a dark street, a dark night, and a gun are three things that should never go together"; the relief is largely due to the fact that "up all night studying", "arguments", and "baking", activities that one unfortunately comes in contact with more than the former ones, are not, and therefore reside on a different list entirely.<p>

Likewise, there are generally three sorts of people that exist in the world. One group is largely indifferent to the topic at hand and are therefore unimportant; another is a group that would stare at you as though pondering your sanity and mental capabilities and quickly insist that something of that nature is surely on the "to fear" list; the last is a group that would immediately laugh and put the thing on the "safe" list.

After that night, Alyssa wasn't quite sure which of the three she was; after all, she had never before had to worry about how wary she ought to be of cats.

He had changed into his feline form shortly after arriving unexpectedly in her apartment, with claims that it was more comfortable or natural or something like that; Alyssa hadn't been paying much attention to what he was saying, considering that she was still recovering from the shock of having a man-or cat, whatever he was-walk through her bathroom mirror. Chesh was now perched on her kitchen counter, facing the living room, his exceedingly plump cat figure making him look like an enormous ball of fluffy yarn, or a bizarre, purple and pink striped snowball with fur. For her part, Alyssa had collapsed on the couch with a small cup of tea to calm herself. She avoided the cat in the room as if he were an elephant, and instead slowly stirred her tea, lost in the curls of steam that framed her face.

A small cough interrupted her efforts, "You know," he said, mild irritation coloring his words, "It's awfully rude to not offer a guest something to drink."

At this, Alyssa looked up at the cat and positively glared her most menacing look, "It's also awfully rude for a guest to simply invade one's home," she pointed out.

The cat merely simpered at her, "If you want to know anything, I'd suggest you start preparing a warm dish of milk." Alyssa sighed, set her cup down, and stood to make the demanding feline his request, for, in spite of herself, she needed those answers, and she needed them soon. With a huff, she searched her fridge for milk and, when she found it, she slammed the carton on the counter, then irritably searched her cabinets for a small bowl, which she slammed next to the milk.

The cat only grinned at her show, "Be careful," he purred, "You don't want to wake your neighbors." She shot him another look, thoroughly annoyed; with yet another huffy breath, she poured out the cat's milk and placed it in the microwave, not wanting to spill any despite how badly she wanted to irk Chesh. When the milk had been heated, she placed the dish in front of the cat, crossed her arms across her chest, and waited for him to finish. After a few laps of the liquid, Chesh looked up at her and said, "Calm yourself, Kate. No need to be tempestuous just yet."

She rolled her eyes. Couldn't these creatures just decide unanimously on what they wanted to call her? Before she could comment on it, Chesh spoke up yet again, rather nonchalantly.

"You'll go by Lyss in Wonderland, just so you know. Fair compromise, we figured."

At this, Alyssa took attention, "We? Who is we?" she demanded. The cat completely ignored her for several moments, focused entirely on his milk.

"Well," he began, "I suppose it's mostly just me, really," he explained. "But everyone will call you that in Wonderland."

"What if I decide not to go to Wonderland?" she asked, sticking her nose high into the air.

Chesh glared at her, his pupils widening considerably, "I did not just go through the looking glass for you to tell me you don't want to go back with me." Alyssa panicked.

"You mean I have to go through the mirror?" she squeaked. Chesh looked her over, as if judging her size.

"No," he said, "You'd be simply impassable."

She snickered, "You mean impossible, don't you?"

"Impossible?" Chesh scoffed, "Nothing's impossible. You're just not mirror-sized, is all."

"Seriously?" she said, recalling that he, as a full-grown man, was able to pass through the mirror just fine, and that he had been considerably larger than her at the time at well. The cat squirmed, suddenly looking uncomfortable, as if he had just realized that she was not easily fooled.

"Let's just say that there are easier ways to get to Wonderland without having to go through that stupid glass. Especially when more than one person is involved," he explained before returning to his almost empty dish of milk. She let his vague comment go by with a roll of her eyes, deciding that there were more important things that needed to be addressed before such specifics. The two were silent for a while as Alyssa let him finish his drink; the only sounds were the soft ticking of the grandfather clock and the _plapapap_ of Chesh's tongue smacking the surface of the liquid.

"Finished yet?" she asked him, her patience wearing and her curiosity growing. His yellow eyes focused on her, a feral annoyance written across his features, yet he pawed the bowl away from himself-the universal sign of being finished. Chesh leaped off the counter and plodded off to the living room without a word; Alyssa followed him, as she was certain that an Important Conversation was going to happen and she didn't want to miss it. His plump, feline body situated itself on the couch, tail flicking languidly; he looked as though he truly didn't care about anything but his own well-being. She joined him shortly, curling her legs underneath her and propping her head up with her hand.

The ticking clock was the only sound, and Alyssa soon realized that he wasn't going to give up any information without being questioned. Internally, she sighed, unsure if she would be able to ask the right questions. With no real idea as to where she ought to begin, Alyssa simply dove straight in to the murky unknown with the hope that things would clear up eventually.

"What does Wonderland want with me?" she asked, looking straight at the cat, whose only acknowledgment of her was a swish of his tail and a flick of his ear.

"A great many things," he replied, "It's very curious. Not even I am certain as to what is going on right now."

Her left eyebrow arched itself up to meet her hairline for a nice chat. She suspected that the seemingly omniscient feline was lying, "And what would that be?"

At this, Chesh drew himself up, becoming more statuesque and serious, "Now, we're not completely sure about this, but it appears as though you've run out of more...chances, as I believe it was put to you the first time."

"Meaning I'm not going to be...reborn or whatever anymore?" she said, doubt adding a sarcastic tone to her words.

"Precisely. We have records of your time in Wonderland and this one is," he paused, "Curiouser than the others, let's say." He allowed himself a small grin.

"How can you even know that?" asked Alyssa. It wasn't that she didn't believe the cat, as she truly had no reason not to, it was more that she wanted to express every bit of doubt, answer every question, before making her final decision.

"Because Wonderland itself is acting up, and it only does that when something isn't right."

"How long has it been doing that?"

"Approximately thirty years," he said, "We've been waiting for you to come back but-" he trailed off, averting his gaze as though her grandfather clock was suddenly the most interesting item he had ever seen.

"But what?" she demanded, her curiosity piquing.

"Let's just say that there's been a sort of...mistake."

Alyssa certainly did not like the sound of _that_, "What sort of mistake?"

"A mistake regarding you. You've been through this before, and you've been Alice Liddell every single time. And yet here you are, named Alyssa Little, a name that, while very similar, isn't quite _you_," he elaborated, tilting his head at her slightly, as if a bit confused about how the situation could have possibly played out to begin with.

Truly, she was unsure about what to make of the situation, particularly since she was getting this information from a talking cat. A human would have been a much more plausible source, "And how do you know you have the right person?" she asked, hoping and yet not hoping that maybe, just maybe, he had made a mistake.

He only grinned, "I have my ways."

She certainly hadn't been expecting that response, "Oh." Her hand moved to play with the chain of her necklace until she remembered that she was no longer wearing it, and her hand instead dropped weakly to her side.

"And dearie, by the way, when you get there, it's going to be of the utmost importance that you figure out what's going on," he said between licks of his paw.

She frowned at the moniker he had come up with for her, and her eyes widened at his words, "I have to do it? Why don't you?"

"Because otherwise you'll have no point in going. I'm merely spiking your curiosity. It's one thing that's never changed about you, regardless of your name."

She shifted slightly. She was _awfully_ curious, though she had been quite curious far before that implication. Truthfully, she had been curious ever since a strange rabbit had somehow found his way into her apartment, and now, here she was, preparing herself to act on it.

"And what exactly do you mean," she began slowly, "by 'figure out what's going on?'"

"I mean that you'll have to figure out why you aren't Alice this time," he said, eyeing her pile of textbooks on the coffee table ever so slightly.

Her response was quiet, the first time she allowed her voice to mimic her thoughts, "What if I can't?"

"Oh, you will. The survival of Wonderland depends on it," Chesh stated in a very straightforward manner for someone whose home and existence was being threatened.

"How so?"

"Because, if things aren't going as they should with Alice, how will they go well for anyone else? It's a very selfless task, when you think about it."

"And what makes you think I'll do this?"

His grin spread wider, "Look around you. What do you have here? _Nothing_."

Looking around her apartment, she realized he was right. There were no pictures of her friends or family, no phonebook to remember the numbers of people she was supposed to care about, and to top it off, there was hardly even evidence that she lived there; the apartment was as plain and usual as she was curious and logical. And in that moment, it hit her: she was attached to creatures and people she had met just once before, more than she was with people she had known for years, and her curiosity demanded that she figure out what all of this hullaballoo with her and Wonderland was about-certainly, her logical mind argued, it wouldn't be too difficult.

"I have family, you know. I can't just abandon them" she said, a last-ditch effort to talk herself out of this nonsense.

"And when was the last time you spoke to them? Would they even notice you were gone?"

She thought for a moment, pondering the cat's questions. Alyssa was responsible for her finances; her life was independent entirely of her parents. She didn't need them, and if her phone records were any indication, they didn't need her either.

"Okay," she said, "I'm in."

The cat only grinned, "Excellent." Before her eyes, she saw his feline form shake slightly, until rather suddenly, there was a full grown man sitting on her couch instead of a very fat feline. He stood up and began rummaging through his pockets, searching fervently for something. Chesh finally located the object, and tossed it at Alyssa. She was unsure of what exactly it was; it felt like fabric and yet weighed far heavier than any clothes she had ever known. "Put them on. I'll wait out here," he told her, and she stood and went to her room to get a better look at the silken lump.

Once in her room, safely hidden from view thanks to her door, she flicked on the light and spread the fabric over her bed to get a better look at what exactly she had just been holding. What she saw appeared to be some sort of dress, but nothing that she had ever seen in a clothing store. It was long, relatively plain, with sleeves that would reach her wrists and a very strange poof on the upper arms. The color was lilac, a color that certainly suited Alyssa. Carefully, she changed into the dress, as she wasn't entirely sure if she was even putting it on correctly, and found that it fit her perfectly (if, in fact, this was the way one was supposed to wear the darn thing). She returned to the living room, a look of confusion on her face, her hands fussing with the sleeves.

"Chesh, why am I wearing this?" she asked.

He looked her over briefly, "So you won't stand out. Don't want people thinking you're a..." he trailed off, searching for the correct, least non-offensive word, "Trollop."

"_Oh_," she exclaimed, "Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"Indeed not," he affirmed as he took of the white glove that he still wore, "Also, you should wear this," and he handed the glove off to her. She gave him a questioning look but he made no move to explain, and so she wordlessly slipped the glove onto her hand.

"Now what?" she asked, wondering what other things she might have to do to get to Wonderland.

"You're absolutely certain that you want to do this? You have a choice, you know," he stared intensely at her. It was the first time that he had even bothered to debate that what she was about to do might not be the best idea ever.

"I'm quite certain, thank you," she said, stubbornly set in her decision.

"Why?"

"Because," she began, and then paused. Hadn't they just been over this? She had nothing, here she was dispensable. "Because even when I find them annoying, I'm still better off with you creatures than without."

He grinned victoriously, "Let's be off then, shall we?" And with that the two sauntered outside of the apartment, Chesh returning to feline form as they walked. Alyssa never looked back.

It was approximately five minutes later that Alyssa realized that, while she may have been properly dressed for Wonderland, she was certainly very strange looking for her world; luckily, only a few early morning joggers were out and about and so very few people noticed or would later remember the strange lady walking around in artistic dress and one pure white glove with an oddly coloured cat as her companion. It was approximately thirty seconds after that realization that Alyssa discovered that she really didn't care, and so she continued to wordlessly follow her guide on trails she had never seen or knew existed, in places that were out of sorts, places that were neither here nor there but certainly real just the same. After wandering about for quite some time (she thought they were in the woods in her town but looking about she just couldn't be sure), she finally became far too curious for her own good.

"Where _are_ we? And what are we doing here?" she asked the feline, who was slowly changing into his human form yet again. When he was done, he stopped walking and placed his hands on his hips, facing her.

"We're looking for a sort of..._Bermuda Triangle_ of England, dearie," he explained, and then took off walking again, "Rabbit holes can be tricky to find so for now we're sticking with this method."

"This method? You mean walking?" Now she was thoroughly confused. And to think that she had expected to fall down a hole or step through a looking glass, when she could just walk right into Wonderland!

"It's more complicated than that," he said, glancing at her hand, "Take my arm, will you?"

"Is it necessary that I do so?"

"Quite," he said with an edge, and so she sighed and placed her hand at his elbow as they walked forward, the silk of her glove sliding into a perfect position against his smooth suit jacket. Onward they marched, for what felt like an eternity, until quite suddenly, everything went slightly blurry for a while. It was as if Alyssa had suddenly lost a majority of her vision and was without glasses; everything was muddled and large circles of color and plain and lacking detail, texture. Chesh rather firmly placed the hand that wasn't attached to the arm escorting Alyssa onto her gloved hand, like he was holding it in place, assuring that she wouldn't be able to move it anywhere. Everything was clear, flowing water, and were it not for Chesh pushing them forward, she would have undoubtedly turned back from the uncomfortableness of it all. The blur tightened in on her, pulling against her and then pushing her forward, unable to decide if it wanted her or if it didn't. A firm yank on her arm from Chesh brought her forward, and suddenly she could breathe and the blur was gone, and in its place was a world she had only dreamed of.

"Welcome to Wonderland, Lyss,"

She looked around their surroundings: a wide, brilliantly green meadow that dipped up into a dark forest of every color imaginable, the sky was bluer than any she had ever seen. And, suddenly, she felt comfortable.

"Follow me, I can take you to the Hare's but no further than that. They're in charge of your boarding until we can find you another place," he said as he lifted his coat slightly so that he could confirm that a small yet powerful something was still tucked into the waistband of his trousers.

"I'm guessing that's not just for show, is it?" Lyss asked the man. His only explanation was to walk away without acknowledging her words. She raced after him as they headed into the woods, determined not to get lost so soon after entering this new land. Through the canopy of colour, they walked, Lyss tripping often and running into many things in the unfamiliar forest, while Chesh moved with an assured swiftness that only experience could bring. Several bruises later, they finally stumbled across a modest home situated on the outer edges of the other side of the forest. A splendid hedge surrounded the entire property, with an occasional white gate leading to various points of entry. Without hesitation, Chesh walked right up to one such gate and barged uninvited and unannounced into the backyard. Lyss ran after him, her long skirts making it difficult, and she closed the gate behind her, then turned to look at where exactly the man had led her.

What she saw was quite a spectacle indeed.

Initially, she noticed not that the Hatter was calmly sitting at a rather large tea table, calmly sipping from a cup of tea and glancing rather regularly at a pocket watch that he had placed on the table near where his feet in their comically large shoes were resting. Rather, her eyes preoccupied themselves with a furry blur of brown that was whizzing about the yard.

"March Hare!" Chesh yelled out at the thing, which rather suddenly stopped.

"Damn the institutions! Existentialism! Treason and murder of the highest degree!" the March Hare proclaimed loudly; his words rather took Lyss by surprise.

It was then that she noticed the Hatter, who was sitting back and smirking at a private joke to himself. She meandered closer to where he was sitting.

"And what do you find to be so funny?" she asked, ducking to avoid the teacup that the Hare had just thrown in a general her way direction.

The Hatter was more than happy to let her in on his witticism, "Treason and murder are certainly two very high degrees that you won't be able to pursue at any college." Lyss pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow at him; perhaps, had a piece of porcelain not nearly hit her on the head in the very recent past, she would have found the quip more amusing.

"March. HARE!" Chesh bellowed once again, determined to keep the attention of the creature and failing.

"There's no use in talking to him," the Hatter casually called out. Chesh strolled over to where the two were conversing.

"And why," he began, "is that?" The man's patience was clearly wearing thin, and he kept looking about as if he had somewhere else to be.

The Hatter took a sip of tea, relishing the information that he knew that Chesh had yet to piece together. "It's March," he said simply, as if it should have been entirely obvious. Chesh only sighed; he seemed annoyed that he would have to address the Hatter rather than the maniacal bunny.

"You know what to do?"

"Of course."

"Good."

Something there was quite palpable, Lyss could sense that, but she had no time to really ponder what, as the man had already turned into a feline and was slowly disappearing with each step out of the backyard.

"You may want to duck," the Hatter said, his nonchalantness remaining.

"What?" Lyss asked, confused that, of all things to say, this was what he chose.

"Duck!" he exclaimed, pushing up from his chair and placing his right hand firmly between her shoulder blades while pushing down; she had no choice but to kneel on the ground. With a sweeping motion, he took his hat (the same one that he had been wearing when they first met), and held it out at about the place where Lyss' head had just been, a perfect place for the teapot that the Hare had tossed to land.

"Victory is cause for a jubilant extravaganza!" proclaimed the Hare, and he scampered off to find something else to interest him. Lyss stood up cautiously, now wary of flying porcelain, and noticed something odd about the Hatter, who was preoccupied with rummaging through his hat in search of the rogue teapot.

"Your hair," she said, thoroughly perplexed.

The Hatter looked up from his searches, "What about it?"

"It's white,"

"It normally is," he said, eyeing her as if she were the one who was off the rocker.

She furrowed her eyebrows, "When we first met, it was almost entirely red," she explained.

"Was it, now? I don't tend to notice these things," he said, returning to his search. He finally located the teapot and placed it carefully on the table after inspecting it for any damage, and once again he glanced at the pocket watch. With a sigh, he turned to Lyss, "I'm afraid he's going to be like that for a bit more," indicated he to the brown blur. "He's usually not so bad. It's been a long month. Tea?"

She smiled at the invitation and sat next to him at the table, where they proceeded to pass a few terrifying hours, as the Hare was still at large. Lyss was torn between running out of the backyard and away from such madness and walking up and introducing herself to it; the Hatter was certainly no help, as he made no effort at initiating a how-do-you-do between girl and hare. It was a bit infuriating, really, his dismissive nature; clearly, the poor Hare was in need of help, yet all the Hatter would do anytime Lyss brought it up was look at his pocket watch and tell her to wait just a little while longer. Really, though, there was only so much sitting around and waiting that the girl could take, and so, long after the sun had set and the lanterns above the Hare's table lit, Lyss took it upon herself to daringly approach the Hare and get a proper introduction.

"Misguided, misappropriated, regional commands!" was his greeting to her, and she was rather taken aback, for what exactly does one say in response to such a statement. The Hatter got up and ran at the pair, nobly placing himself between Lyss and his friend. Lyss, however, kept insisting on at least a nice handshake, and stepped out from behind him and held out her hand for the Hare to shake. This seemed to be a great offense, and the Hare swelled up greatly, and spewed more nonsense in a loud fashion, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THI-oh, hello, dear, how are you today? Seen your room yet?" he asked her. The Hatter breathed a sigh of relief and checked his watch one last time.

"Happy April First, you crazy fool," he said to his friend, who seemed to have no recollection of his prior madness as he warmly greeted Lyss, who was bewildered and baffled as her new friend led her around the house, leaving her at her room for the night. She looked at her reflection in a small vanity near her new closet, and spoke aloud.

"Goodness, Lyss, what _have_ you gotten yourself into?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Things are really picking up now, and I hope everyone gets plenty intrigued by this chapter! It's a bit of a roller coaster, but one I hope you'll enjoy. Let me know what you think of this chapter either here or on my livejournal! I also have a tumblr now, if you'd like to let me know your thoughts there (a link can be found on my profile). Happy reading!_

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><p>"Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know-because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand."<p>

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

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><p>It was a routine they had stuck with, one that, while comfortable for him, was unnerving for her. There was an unusual sameness about their days, something in which she was suffocating. Certainly, things occasionally <em>appeared<em> to be different, but they were always in the same places, and while they may not have always been doing the same things or speaking about the same topics, it was the sameness of place that truly drove her mad. A free spirit such as herself could only reasonably stand so much.

Perhaps that is what motivated her.

Or maybe it was something else.

Maybe it wasn't that things were the same. Maybe, just maybe, it was that she felt trapped, felt that she was destined to be something bigger. Not necessarily something _better_, oh no, just bigger. Influential. Powerful.

Unstoppable.

Everything had been laid out and planned. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Nothing, that is, except for...

_Him_.

But he wouldn't know now, would he? She'd made sure it would be airtight. Nobody would know. Nobody would guess.

The sound of hooves was heard in the distance. She smiled softly to herself and picked up her cup, sipping from the lukewarm, bitter liquid. Still smiling, she slowly slipped the ring off her finger and let it fall to the ground. She stepped on it to bury it in the soft dirt. It would never be found. She took another sip of her drink.

He had no idea what was coming.

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><p>Lyss woke the next morning, and for a moment was whisked into a panic, as she had entirely forgotten where exactly she was. The rather eventful prior day came flooding back, and she rubbed her temples to ease her sudden headache. She looked down at her simple nightgown and the lush bed she was sitting on, and found that she could not quite remember ever putting on the gown or placing herself in the bed, a thought that greatly worried her. As she scanned the room, she took in its humble yet rich decor: the small vanity tucked into the corner, the chest at the foot of the bed, the wardrobe placed carefully to the left of the bed and just beyond reach of the chest, the nightstand just to her right. She took in the ornate wooden headboard and the fluffy sheets that ensconced her. A small smile crept across her lips quite unintentionally, and she leapt out of bed, her feet connecting with the somewhat chilly floor. To the door she walked, and carefully turned the carrot shaped handle and cracked the door open ever so slightly so that she might peek out and see if anything was happening. All she could see was a short staircase leading to the downstairs. Quietly, she closed the door again, and turned to the wardrobe, certain that it would be an egregious error to appear in the company of others in only her night clothes.<p>

Lyss wasn't entirely certain what exactly she expected to find in the wardrobe; she hadn't brought anything with her, after all. Perhaps she had been expecting to find some sort of portal, but she was met only with beautiful dresses and skirts, and several pairs of laced heeled boots, as well as a number of hat boxes. She took a moment to gasp and appreciate the splendor of design before her, and then, in a turn of indulgence, she separated the clothes so that she might peek behind them to the very back of the wardrobe. To her mild disappointment, she was met only with a panel of wood, and so she frowned and set her attention back to the fabrics. She selected a blue dress, hoping that it would highlight the color of her eyes, and turned to lay it on the bed, when she immediately hit her foot on the chest. Curious, she carefully set the dress down and turned her attention to the wooden object.

Her hand ran across the smooth paneling; somehow it felt unreal, like the wood was made of butter or velvet-something lush and completely not formerly a tree. She unhitched the clasp that bound the lid to the rest of the container, and slowly lifted the lid, noticing the ancient _crrrrreeeeeeeeak_ that escaped from it. The lid made a soft thud as it connected with the foot of the bed, and Lyss looked wide-eyed at an entirely different sort of fabric that filled the chest.

"What on Earth..." she whispered aloud after a small gasp. There were corsets and petticoats and dozens of items that made her entirely unsure. In the back of her mind, she heard Chesh's advice floating around: wouldn't want to be a trollop now, would she? She picked up the fabric of something-she wasn't quite sure what-and gingerly held it by the thumb and forefinger. Carefully, she inspected the fabric, and glanced at the dress, then at her figure, and continued this cycle for a good while, the furrow between her eyes deepening as her frustration grew.

"Where is this even supposed to _go_?" she wondered, as it certainly made no logical sense to her. She thought briefly about asking someone before remembering that there was only one man and a hare in the house (if the man had even remained overnight), and she was most certainly not going to ask either of them. And yet, she couldn't very well go downstairs improperly dressed! It was rather a dilemma, and all she could do was cross her arms, huff, and resolve to never leave the room ever again.

A knock on the door startled her entirely, and she felt a panic settle into her chest as she stared at the origin of the horrible noise.

She took a deep breath, "Y-yes?" she stammered out, her voice sounding a touch higher than it normally did.

"Open the door," a familiar man's voice replied, and Lyss felt her eyes widen. She stood and glanced wildly around the room, looking desperately for something to cover her up a bit more and finding nothing.

"Um, just a minute, please!" Finally, she found a thin robe draped on the sill of the window on the far right wall, and she rushed to it, threw it on, and then glanced in the vanity mirror. She was unsure what to think of her appearance; at university, she would have been downright conservative, but here, she couldn't help but worry if the nightgown showed too much décolletage. With a whisk, she turned to the door and walked towards it, determined. She slowly opened it and carefully cracked the door open as slightly as she could, enough for one blue eye and a sliver of body to show. Her eye was met with a violet one and a kind smile.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice staying steady.

He removed his hat, "How are you this morning, Miss Lyss?" the Hatter asked her with all the politeness and manners of well-breeding.

She was so startled by the formality that her own reply came out exceedingly polite as well, "Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Splendid, splendid," he said, grinning. They remained in silence for a bit, Lyss blushing and fidgeting with her robe and the Hatter continually smiling. Finally, he added, "We've sent for someone to help you dress for today," he said. "We figured you might be having some difficulties."

A wave of relief washed over Lyss, "Oh, thank goodness! I've no idea where anything is supposed to go and-" she stopped suddenly, unsure if she was saying too much in such polite company.

The Hatter shrugged, "It happens."

"Oh?"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. They listened as the Hare answered and let in a woman, heard her remove her coat and start ascending the stairs.

"I should go," whispered the Hatter, the smile still hanging onto his mouth.

Lyss couldn't help but smile back, "Yes, I suppose you should."

"I'll see you at breakfast, then," and with that he left to make way for the woman now waiting on the small landing. As soon as he was out of sight, the woman boldly strode forward and into Lyss' bedroom, commanding the room despite her small stature. Lyss watched, awestruck, as this other woman made quick work of the strange chest of fabrics, pulling out seemingly random bundles of one sort and misshapen piles of others.

After a few minutes of watching, Lyss finally spoke up. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name," she said. The woman scarcely glanced at her as she replied.

"Ibbill."

"Ibbill?"

"Yes."

Lyss found herself taken aback by such succinct replies. It was as if Ibbill knew how she wanted her time spent, and was in rather a rush to finish with this task so that she could move on to something more exciting and interesting than clothing the fashionably challenged girl from England.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ibbill." The conversation halted at that for the moment, as Ibbill preoccupied herself with meticulously checking the dress Lyss had pulled against the ones that remained in the wardrobe. In a flurry of motion, the woman snatched the blue dress from the bed and stood on tiptoe to hold it up to Lyss' eyes. She studied for a moment, her eyes-they were two different shades of brown, very odd, indeed-flickered between the dress and Lyss, the dress and Lyss. Finally, she said:

"At least you got the color right," and with that, the two set about getting properly dressed, Ibbill filling Lyss in on some of the finer points of corsets and stockings and petticoats as they did so.

"And I need to wear all of these things?" she had asked her stylist at one point. Ibbill only scoffed at her, insisting that any young woman with a modicum of fashion and sensibility would be sure to stay on top of such trends. Lyss never once questioned her authority after that reply, especially since she considered or at least fancied herself to have fashion and sensibility. She only interrupted the woman's careful work to ask a small question or two concerning the items she was putting on, and Ibbill answered them gladly, clearly pleased that someone should be coming to her for advice, particularly since that person would make good use of it. When she turned Lyss to the mirror, it was apparent that she was good and done. They took a moment each to admire the handiwork, and then Ibbill gave a small smile and left the room.

Lyss called after her, "Will you be back tomorrow?"

At the landing, the woman paused and turned back, "Afraid not. I was only brought on for the day. But if you need me, I'm not hard to find. And a person, once in my good favor, has a hard time falling out of it." Lyss smiled; there was a comfort in knowing someone so fiercely loyal. The woman then held out her hand to Lyss, and they walked down the stairs, fingers interlaced, until they reached the front door, and Ibbill said her final goodbye. Lyss watched as her ally walked away, stopping only to retrieve a brown dog with floppy ears and a rather round derrière. She smiled, and then turned around, intending to go to the backyard to eat some breakfast, but was instead met with the Hatter, who ushered her outside.

"We have an important date, you know!" he explained.

Lyss was only left confused, "A date? With who? And I'm hungry!" She was a person who was rather fond of breakfast, and was quite annoyed that she wouldn't get to eat before meeting with an important person. The Hatter, who was now leading the way along a narrow path, merely tossed a scone over his shoulder to her, which, thanks to her excessive experience with sports, she caught and began to nibble on. "Where are we going?" she asked between bites. She noticed that, regardless of the lack of a spread, the scone was quite delicious and not dry at all; rather, it was very rich and filling, something she wondered silently at.

"To the palace," he answered perfectly nonchalantly, as if visiting the palace was no peculiarity.

"And what will we be doing at the palace?"

He shrugged, "Probably visit the Queen, hopefully without her ensemble of doting ladies of the court."

Lyss felt her mouth run dry and suddenly found that food was completely unappetizing. Her stomach was now much too full of nervous flutters, "We're meeting the Queen?" she squeaked.

The Hatter shook his head, "No, _you're_ meeting the Queen. I've already met her on many occasions." There was a hint of disdain and disapproval in his voice, and Lyss was unsure if it was directed towards her or the subject of conversation.

"You'll be with me, won't you? You won't leave me alone with her?"

Incredulousness lighted in his eyes, "Of course not. It would be a cruel fate to be left alone with her for a first encounter. Do you want some tea?"

Lyss started, "What?"

"Do you want tea?" he repeated, "I find that it's often a very calming drink."

"Oh," she said, remembering the dryness of her throat, "That would be nice, yes." Given the path they were currently walking, though, she doubted that he would be able to procure any. Suddenly, she found that they had stumbled into a small city. It seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere, and she was quite certain that only moments ago they had been wandering the woods, and that the landscape of a city certainly hadn't been anywhere on the horizon. Looking ahead, though, there were numerous streets lined with shops and peddlers; even further, there was an imposing stone castle overlooking the area from a small, inconsequential hill. Lyss paused her steps, looked wide-eyed over the area, desperately trying to take it all in. Each building was a different color, and of every size possible: a short, red and white striped building that was exuding an essence of peppermint was next to a three story blue building that was painted with white cloud outlines. This building resided near the simple tent of a lady who was peddling the most unique wind chimes-they seemed to be feats of engineering rather than simple, natural instruments.

A voice behind her shot her out of her bewilderment. "You look like you need something herbal," it said, and she turned around to find the Hatter holding out a perfectly made cup of tea that smelled delightfully soothing. She took the porcelain cup in her hands, the heat of the tea making the cup warm as well, and had a small sip, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth as she realized that it was chamomile.

Lyss looked around to see where he had gotten the tea from, and, upon noticing a small cafe across the street, decided that it must have been from there. There were a few tables set outside on a small patio, where patrons could people watch as the citizens of Wonderland wandered up and down the streets of the city. Only two were occupied; at one sat an old couple enjoying their morning breakfast over flowers and held hands, and at the other were seated three young ladies. The one on the far right was in a simple black and white striped dress, and had blonde hair that dazzled when the sunlight hit it-on further inspection and much squinting, Lyss noticed that each individual dazzle was in the shape of some sort of musical note. The lady in the middle was hardly a lady at all; rather, she was a fairy, with her long, diaphanous wings framing her petite body and mischievous face. It was this fairy whose eyes met with Lyss'. The fairy gave a coy smile and nudged her friend with the exquisite hair, who turned and stared a bit, wide eyed at the sight of the Hatter and Lyss. Both turned to their third friend, who was so engrossed in writing in a small, leather bound journal that Lyss doubted that the lady even noticed any of her surroundings, and they attempted to get her attention. If one were only looking at this third lady, they would assume that not a single thing was making a sound, for she gave no physical clue that she heard them. All she did was continue writing. In exasperation, her friends yanked the journal from her hands, causing her to shoot up and lunge across the table for it; the lady's fairy friend, however, held it high aloft. Both fairy and the sparkling lady pointed at Lyss and the Hatter and said something to the writing lady. She looked to where they pointed, and made eye contact with Lyss for a few moments. Lyss noticed her round cheeks and two-toned eyes; it was strange, but in those moments, Lyss had the unsettling feeling that the lady knew everything about her.

The lady immediately turned to her friends and was clearly panicked. She stood on the table, damning propriety, and leapt for the journal, yelling rather loudly, "Give it back! This isn't supposed to happen!" The fairy laughed and tossed the journal back, and the lady promptly turned to writing again. Suddenly, Lyss and the Hatter had an overwhelming urge to continue their walk to the palace, and so they strolled on, leaving the strange ladies behind them, forgotten.

"Are all the people in Wonderland so colorful?" Lyss asked the Hatter. He only shrugged in response and told her to finish up her tea before they reached the palace. It was only upon finishing her tea that she realized that the cup would somehow have to make its way back to the cafe where she had assumed the Hatter had procured the tea, and she began to protest that they needed to return.

The Hatter sighed, "Really, now? Why do you want to go back? You have to meet the Queen, and she doesn't like late guests."

"But the cup! I can't begin my time in Wonderland as a thief!" she explained.

She was met with a curious eye, "A thief." This was all he said, and it was all it took to prompt further explanation from Lyss.

"Yes, a _thief_. You can't just go around taking teacups from places!"

"But you never took the teacup."

"I still drank from it!"

"But you didn't take it."

"I used it!"

"You. Didn't. Take. It."

"I. Know."

"Then why does it matter?"

"It just does!"

"Why?"

"Take it back!"

"No."

"Why not?"

He snatched the teacup from her hands and stepped several paces back, holding the cup precariously between his fingers, looking for all the world innocent, except for his clever violet eyes brimming with mischief. Lyss tilted her head downwards and to the right, her eyes searching his face, desperate to find something that told her he was merely joking.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Don't you dare."

"I'll dare if I want to."

"I can't believe you."

"How curious. You seem to have no trouble with believing in what was once a mere place of fiction to you, and yet you have difficulties with believing me, a simple man?"

"Oh, there's nothing simple about you, I'm sure of it," she said, and she turned and stormed off, assuming he would come after her, which he did, but only after a small _crash_ was heard. Lyss whisked around, mouth open, and watched as he smugly walked past, smirking grandly, making sure to step on the porcelain pieces now littering the ground.

"Come on now, don't want to be late, after all," he called back. Infuriated, Lyss grumbled after him, arms crossed and mouth pouting. It was a strange feeling, though-she felt she was less angry at the Hatter and more discouraged by her inability to figure him out.

By now, they found themselves at an oversized, intricate iron gate; behind it was an expansive garden and beyond that was the cold castle of the Queen. Breath left Lyss' chest as she exclaimed softly to herself and chilling terror rushed across her body, making her shiver violently once. Automatically, she looked to the Hatter for assurance, and to her great surprise, she saw that he was drinking from a teacup that looked exactly like the one he had just smashed minutes before. Bewildered, she asked where he had gotten it. He equivocated, much to her dismay, and then removed his hat, took the teacup, and placed it in the hat before putting it back on his head.

"Won't that hurt?" Lyss asked, mildly concerned.

"Hmm?" was all he replied, as if the act of putting a teacup in his hat was an event completely forgotten already. Lyss decided, for the time being, that she would just let it go. She had few allies whom she truly enjoyed the company of, and she did not wish to cause unnecessary friction with the ones she liked.

The iron gates captured her gaze once again, and she gulped, intimidated by the enormity of everything.

"Shall we?" the Hatter asked her, and she looked over at him, their eyes catching. He gave a small smile, she nodded her head, and took the elbow he offered as they pushed through the gates and into the gardens of royalty.

Perfectly trimmed and brilliantly green hedges were arranged in an extremely precise manner to the duo's left; the other side was littered with hydrangeas and black poppies, with the occasional thistle and head of lettuce (of all things) popping up between them. Beyond the jumble of plants was a large, flat expanse of grass delineated with shorter hedges. They walked forward, and Lyss felt every sense and nerve heighten as they approached the front doors. Each step was heard, every rustle in the bushes made her jump, and she began panicking over whether or not she was breathing too much. The gates they entered from clanged shut, making Lyss yelp and jump in surprise. Wordlessly, the Hatter placed a hand on top of her hand, the one that was at his elbow, the smooth presence bring moderate comfort.

"You got your gloves back," Lyss said, hoping that the act of conversation might distract her.

"Indeed, I did. Chesh returned them this morning."

At this point, an average person would most likely be satisfied with the response and allow a comfortable silence to settle between them; however, Lyss was not an average person, and let her curiosity guide her as she asked, "Why did Chesh need the gloves in the first place? He never mentioned why, you see."

"Well," the Hatter began, and Lyss could see him muse over his words for a bit, ensuring that what he said next would be carefully phrased, "Chesh is in the habit of taking items which he finds useful."

"I see," said Lyss, even though she most certainly did not; still, contemplating over the meaning of the words was a more enjoyable pastime than contemplating over a meeting with the Queen, and so, as armed guards opened the doors and they walked along the cold stone floor, she thought of his words and not of her situation. Had she thought over the Queen, she may have wondered what exactly she was doing there or why exactly a meeting with royalty was necessary-she knew something was wrong here, but hadn't expected the Queen to inform her about it, if that was what the meeting was about at all. Surely, a person in her power was realistically far too preoccupied with running a kingdom to meet with a young lady who had just arrived in this foreign land. This, though, was the fault of Lyss: she greatly underestimated the scope of her significance.

Rather suddenly, Lyss felt the Hatter stop, and so she too stopped walking, and saw that they were before yet another door. It was excellent that Lyss was the sort of girl who had very compelling needs to know what was held behind closed doors despite any trepidation, or she would have given up on meeting the Queen long ago.

"Ready?"

Lyss took a brave breath and nodded; the doors opened, and they walked into the most grand room Lyss had ever seen. Here, though, it is important to define the grandness: it was grand in the sense that it was quite spacious-a herd of elephants could have held a party in the room-and not in the sense that it was a space cluttered with opulent luxuries. Truly, the room was sparse. An ornate gold throne, a long red carpet, and opaque curtains were the only items that Lyss could see; the room was no cake. Two people were situated near the throne, and Lyss could only assume that the lady in red was the Queen herself, and the man next to her was some sort of servant. They were fiddling with the Queen's hair, and when they noticed the presences of Lyss and the Hatter, they promptly stopped, and the man placed an ornate gold crown on the royal woman's head.

"Come in," the Queen spoke authoritatively, "We have much to discuss." She turned to her assistant, "Knave, do send for the ladies of the court so that they may meet our new _visitor_." The man rushed off through a door on the opposite end of where Lyss and the Hatter had entered, presumably to fulfill the wishes of his lady.

"Do you wish to send me off as well, Majesty?" the Hatter asked, and Lyss instinctively tightened her grip on his arm. She did not want him to leave, not one bit. The Queen looked sharply at the Hatter, appraising him, calculating; in the end, she declared that he could stay, for, as she put it, "You seem to be her ally anyway, and she'll likely tell you whatever I say."

"I would," declared Lyss, in a moment of bravery that one sharp look from the Queen diminished, "Your Majesty," she meekly added.

A simple smile formed on the Queen's lips; it was a most strange smile, though, as it didn't seem to affect any of her other features. The smile, rather than making her seem more friendly, had the opposite affect of making her distant and cold. "Well then," she spoke, "Do let's discuss your _situation_, dear." Her Highness stepped down from the throne area and stood vis-à-vis with Lyss, who dropped the arm of the Hatter so that they could truly face each other. Both ladies were in slight heels, though it seemed to Lyss that otherwise the two would be the same height; they also had a similar build. The Queen had very dark features: black hair, midnight eyes, and shadows crossed her features-they weren't indicative of a benevolent ruler. They stared off at each other for a good while, and only their breathing and the Hatter's casual whistling were signs of actual life.

"We are aware of your knowledge of the life cycles, and so do not wish to further discuss those. What I want to tell you of is the state of Wonderland itself, essentially, what you are here to help with," the Queen began. She paused for confirmation or retort from Lyss, and, upon receiving none, continued, "There is an air of something amiss here, Miss Lyss." She dragged out the end of the young lady's name, an excess of "s". "It may not be apparent to the average being, particularly to a new visitor like yourself, but there is unrest, and the people are, rather unfortunately, whispering behind doors and stirring up random trouble. We know that this is typical of most places in your world, but here, unrest has only happened one time, and we had Alice to stop it. Wonderland is not a warring country, and it is up to you to make sure that it does not become one. Am I clear?"

Lyss blinked, "I'm sorry, you need me here to prevent a _war_?"

"And to prevent this war, you must discover the source of this unrest. Some of my advisors have suggested that the source depends on the discovery of yourself, your _true_ self, but I highly doubt it. Alice's last journey here was, it appears to us, a final one, and while you may look very much like her, you are most certainly _not_ Alice. Do we have an understanding?"

Lyss looked down at her feet, and then glanced at the Hatter, who almost imperceptibly nodded his head. "Yes, I understand perfectly," she said.

"Excellent. You may go," the Queen spoke, just as the Knave reentered the room to announce the presence of the ladies. "I'm sorry, our guests were just leaving. There is no time for introductions." On those words, Lyss and the Hatter turned around to exit, but not before a high-pitched squealing and the sound of tiny hooves were heard as a baby piglet ran into the room from where the Knave stood. A lady ran in after it, and as the piglet rushed by Lyss, she had the sense to stoop down and grab it. The lady, who was wearing an opulent coquelicot dress, caught up to the pair.

"So sorry," she said as she retrieved the pig, her voice unnaturally high, "Children these days, really," and with that, she quickly left the room. As the lady neared the door, Lyss could hear the Knave say something that sounded like, "Really, Duchess," before she left.

"Come on, Miss," said the Hatter, once again offering his arm to her as they left the throne room. They walked in silence through the castle, and the gardens, and even the city, until they were in the woods alone.

"A war," said Lyss, disbelief tinting her words. The Hatter sighed. "No one said anything about a war. Wow. War. That's...wow. War."

"Yup."

"Goodness, I-war. War. I don't even like that woman very much, and I'm expected to prevent her war." Here, the Hatter smiled. "What's so funny?" Lyss snapped.

The Hatter began to outright laugh, "The funny thing is, Lyss," he began, and then, with a quick glance around their surroundings, he leaned in to her ear, "We're not on the Queen's side."

"WHAT?" she exclaimed, dropping his arm and reeling on him, "I'm a _rebel_? Wait, that would make _you_ a rebel too! I don't want to be a rebel, I just want to help!"

"Believe me that this is the best way to do it!" his temper rising for the first time in Lyss' presence, "She's horrid, the Queen. You have no idea."

"I have no idea? _I have no idea_? I just got here and I just learned that my very existence is somehow tied in to this strange place and I'm expected to rebel against it and what happened to Alice?" she shouted, all in one breath.

The Hatter, who had looked like he was about to scream more arguments back at her, now looked horribly confused, "What?"

"The last Alice, what happened to her? You know, don't you?"

"Where did that even _come_ from?" Her clarification clearly left him remaining bewildered.

"The Queen. She said Alice's last journey here was final. What happened to her?" Lyss demanded, though much less hysterically than she had initially asked.

The Hatter smirked a bit, "You're far more perceptive than you look."

Lyss sighed, "Please, Hatter, just answer my question. I need to know." The Hatter looked at her for a bit, staring particularly at her eyes, then he let out a huff, removed his hat, and began tugging slightly on his hair, and he knelt to the ground for a bit before standing straight again, arms at his side, his face more melancholy than any human face ought to look. Very quietly, in a voice just a hair above a whisper, he spoke.

"She died."

Lyss' jaw dropped, "Here?"

"Here."

Wordlessly, Lyss rushed to his side and hugged him tightly; he seemed surprised at first, but then hugged her back.

"I'm sorry," she said, and never before had she felt so strongly that words were horribly inadequate things.

He broke away from her embrace, "Shall we to tea? It's been quite an eventful day."

She nodded, "I'd like that."

And so the two returned to the house of Hare, quietly partaking in soothing, warm liquid to ease their minds.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long waits between __chapters, but I am unfortunately kept very busy, especially lately, and don't have as much time to work on this as I would like. Hopefully, this will change in the immediate future, so with any luck, you won't have to wait nearly two months for the next chapter to be up! Enjoy this chapter and happy reading! Please let me know your thoughts and any questions you might have. I appreciate your support!_

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><p>"Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them."<p>

A.A. Milne

* * *

><p>He liked to touch her. Her wrist and her neck were in constant competition for favorites but he also had a soft spot for her left hip and the small of her back and really if you're going to list those then you can't very well leave out her hands and her fingers and her nose and her mouth and her cheeks because they're just as important and.<p>

Sometimes her lips move but nothing makes sense-it's garbles and gurbles and he can't see the things she's screaming at but they must be there if she can see them, right. He trusts her-he thinks-but sometimes he worries. Worries often. Worries frequently. Worries all the time. He already has the weight of the world on his shoulders and his head and he had always assumed that she would be the one thing he didn't have to worry about but.

Truth be told she's the least like the most and he doesn't like it but this time it's managed to work and he's waited so long that he can't remember when he started and _damn it doesn't he deserve a shred of something good for once. _He lived where it was cold and clammy and dark and iron and stone and one meal a day and he wasn't sure when he'd be back but when you'd been there as often as he had it became customary. _Oh, is it that time of year again well pip pip chin up and maybe when you come out she'll be waiting. _Or maybe not but he was used to that so it was.

He wasn't a stupid man. For now, he had, and he held, but he knew something would do them part. Fingers crossed in front and not behind but he couldn't guarantee no one else was. History repeats, and though he could observe this, he was not above the rule, he was only.

He retreated and stayed there to wait.

* * *

><p>She felt bad, pawning off free room and board from the Hare. It had only been a few days, but those few days seemed like too many, and she was anxious to find a place of her own. But, for now, she settled with small repayments-an offer to cook one night, tidying the living room another, doing the dishes (like she was now). Lyss couldn't be sure that the Hare knew what she was trying to do; sometimes, a knowing look and flick of his ear informed her of their intimate secret, and other times, a mad dash and overenthusiastic thanks indicated he was oblivious. It made no difference to her, whether he knew of her sly offerings or not, and she was happy to reduce herself to a scullery for the time being, even if it was a bit of a cliché, her being a woman. And she had no money-indeed, she had yet to lay eyes on any form of currency in this strange place, and as far as she could tell, the only way to make any money was to sell and trade goods in the city.<p>

There was a huge lack of information, and it was distressing her. A woman constantly informed, Lyss felt that not knowing was like having a useful limb severed off very suddenly, and her curious nature was certainly not helping her in the slightest. She had to know-what was the economy, how exactly did their monarchy work, what sorts of things did the shops sell, what were the names of the trees in the wood, where did certain teacup designs come from, what was madness and how did it relate to hatters? And where could she find a house?

The sound of something clawing at the window broke her thoughts, and with a start, she turned to the source and saw Chesh, grinning widely and indicating to the closed window. She frowned and turned back to the dish she was washing, scrubbing with far more vigor and force than she had been. The clawing continued, and she tried to shut it out, hoping that he would tire of her lack of attention and move on to some other poor soul. Chesh proved his tenacity, and she gave in after several dishes. She dried her hands and opened the window just high enough for him to squeeze under, which he managed to do.

"Good morning, Lyss," he pleasantly greeted her.

She returned to her dishes, "Morning, Chesh. What are you up to today?" she asked, cutting directly to his purpose-she had no patience for the cat's elocution at the moment.

"Oh, nothing much. Just..." he glanced around the small kitchen, "Checking in on things."

"Well, I appreciate your concern but I'm fine," she snapped, though she tried to cover up her annoyance with some semblance of indifference.

"You don't seem to be making much progress," he observed, eyeing her dish washing with too much interest.

"Yes, well, I don't exactly have much information, do I?" She sighed and dropped her dish gently in the sink to rest her elbows on the edge so that her hands could cradle her head. "I don't even know where I'm supposed to start."

"If I could offer you a bit of advice," he said cautiously, "I'd begin with getting more information."

"How am I supposed to find any information? It's not like there's a library here or something!" she barked at him, her frustrations expressing through impatience.

The cat only simpered at her, "Isn't there? How do you know until you ask?"

She started; it hadn't occurred to her that, though there was a limited supply of books _here_, there might be more somewhere else. Wonderland had proven to be quite large-there must be some sort of library or book store somewhere. She excused herself from the cat's company.

"March Hare!" she called out, rushing from the dishes, her arms still wet and soapy. "March Hare!" she cried again. Still nothing responded, and so she planted her feet firmly, cupped her hands around her mouth, and, with a huff, screamed, "MARCH HA-oh." He had appeared behind her and was tugging gently on her skirt with one hand; the other was attempting to cover both his ears.

"You called?" he said.

Lyss colored slightly, "Yes, sorry about that. I was wondering, though, is there a library anywhere near here?"

"Of course there is! It's in the city," he vaguely replied. He fiddled with his ear some more, "I take it you'd like to go?"

She smiled, "Very much, yes."

"Well then, we'll take you there! We must be back for tea-time, though."

She shook her head, "You couldn't just skip tea for one afternoon?" The Hare looked at her like she was an under-baked scone.

"We take our tea very seriously here," he said, eyeing her very closely, as if trying to detect a physical sign of her obvious madness.

His reaction made her gauge hers, and she decided that a cover up was the smoothest way to proceed, "Naturally!" she replied with a laugh, "I was only joking, Hare. I wouldn't dream of making you late for tea." A few jilted and awkward laughs followed, and finally the Hare stopped looking at her oddly and went on to prepare for their trip.

* * *

><p>A short hour later, the Hatter appeared at the Hare's door, and the trio set off for the city, this time taking a different route than the one that led to the Queen's palace. More than once, Lyss asked if they were going the right way, and both her companions responded with silence. She could only assume that they knew what they were doing-something that concerned her, given her perception of their mental states-and she precariously trudged along after them. As before, the city seemed to materialize from nowhere. While it was certainly the same city as before (the palace looming in the immediate distance was the indicator), the area they had wandered into was much different. Here, it was quieter, more quaint, and more breathable. The citizens of Wonderland were not pressed against each other in a mad rush to purchase and barter and sell; here, people strolled and dallied. Lyss immediately decided that she liked this area much more. Here, one could wander into a shop and not purchase anything, or relax by a fountain and admire the puffs of steam escaping from the chimneys of nearby businesses. And, also, here one could find the entrance to a certain two-story building that housed many books and much information.<p>

What the building lacked in splendor on the outside, it compensated for on the inside. Tall shelves were packed with books and looked nearly explosive with all the information they held. They were lined with rolling ladders, and Lyss was sorely tempted to hop on one and push herself down the length of the library. Spiral staircases twisted upwards to the second floor, and Lyss craned her neck to peek at what might be up there. Ceiling high windows broke up different sections of the books; there was one window between every genre, a natural marker that was supplemented by small signs hanging overhead. Walking forward, Lyss was pleasantly surprised to find a round atrium packed with love seats and couches and strewn with fluffy pillows. At the far end of this section was the back wall of the library, lit by a golden fire that flickered its glow across the shelves of books.

"So," the Hatter spoke up from behind her, "What do you think?"

"It's brilliant," she breathed, "I couldn't imagine a lovelier place." She turned slowly in a circle, blue eyes dashing from shelf to shelf, trying to take in every detail of architecture and loved books that she could. The Hare scampered past them and made a beeline for a section filled with recipe books, clearly bent on finding a new snack to serve at tea. A creaking sound broke her of her daydream, and before her eyes, she saw a woman appear from behind one of the shelves. She could not help her audible gasp, and the woman turned to them, a bit surprised, before breaking into a cheerful smile.

"Sorry about that!" she exclaimed in a very foreign accent, "I thought it was empty in here!" Long legs briskly brought the woman over to Lyss and the Hatter. "I don't think I've seen you 'round here before!" she declared, looking at Lyss with big and beautiful eyes.

"Oh, no, no. I'm new. To town. New to town." Lyss stumbled over her words. She had gotten far too accustomed to being greeted like an old friend, and not like a novelty. There was something refreshing to it.

"Her name is Lyss," the Hatter threw in for her. The woman only grinned wider.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Luna," and here the woman stretched out her arms and enveloped Lyss in a quick hug. There was a bit of a height difference between them, and Lyss immediately felt that Luna was somehow maternal to her. Hugging Luna made Lyss realize how long it had been since she had gone without a hug-really, the last time had to have been when the Hatter had informed her of the dead Alice, and even then, she was the one doing most of the hugging-and the comfort of it all nearly made her collapse.

"Can I help y'all find anything? This is my library, after all!" She made a sweeping gesture, indicating to the whole building.

"Oh, yes," Lyss said, trying to recall if there had actually been a purpose to their trip besides exploring every inch of the library. "I was hoping you would have some history books on Wonderland in stock."

Luna pointed over to right of the building. "The entire section between the window with the dark blue curtains and the window with the yellow curtains is completely dedicated to Wonderland history. Let me know if you'd like to check any of them out!"

"Of course!" Lyss exclaimed, already moving toward the shelves of books, "Thank you!"

She crossed the atrium and was soon at the history section. Lyss sniffed deeply, taking in the scent of very old and very loved, though rarely used, books. Her hand skimmed across the spines of every cover, her eyes following as she read each title. _Horticulture and Other Vegetation of the Outer Lands_, _Bourgeoise Life in the Beginning_, _Who Stole the Tarts?: An Insider's Perspective on Court Life in Wonderland_...Lyss sighed. None of these sounded remotely helpful, at least for her purposes, except for that last one, which she pulled off the shelf and rested on a nearby table for later.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Lyss was done searching through the shelves, and had several books and encyclopedias in tow with her, as did the Hare with his many new recipe books. Luna cheerfully checked the books out to her at the front of the massive library, and a young, handsome man Luna called "Jack" helped her pack them all into an oversized purse. The trio left with smiles on their faces, and they strolled down the street, until the Hare announced with a giddy excitement that he had to go back to the house to prepare tea. Lyss and the Hatter continued their walk, meandering to no where in particular, so long as <em>particular<em> wasn't back at the Hare's. Several times, Lyss stopped in front of a window, partly to marvel over the wonders in the store front, and partly to ensure that her blonde hair was still secure in its curl-the Hatter often wouldn't notice, and would instead continue to walk down the street, babbling to no one until Lyss could catch up with him again. They continued like this for a time, until rather suddenly, the Hatter seemed to stand a little straighter and become a little more scrutinizing in his gaze. Lyss continued walking, until he caught her elbow and she felt herself behind whirled off course and into a table. All she could register was her sudden slight dizziness and a very tall hat quite close to her face. A menu was sprung up in front of her eyes, and she wordlessly took it; something was wrong, she could tell, and for now, she trusted his instincts more than she did her own.

"Keep quiet and look down."

She did as she was told. Heart-racing seconds passed, and she was so focused on the beat that her surroundings blurred into a giant watermark. She stared at the menu, not registering a thing-plum pudding with burning raisins, frumenty and mince-pie, bread-and-butter, weak tea with cream-she read without notice or care, snapdragons and butterflies that weren't but were. What nonsense there was to decipher did not matter, she only knew keeping quiet and looking down.

She heard someone suck in a breath, and a high-pitched, feminine voice followed it, "Hatty, is that you?" Heels clicked over to their hideout, and Lyss glanced up to have her gaze filled with the regal foolishness of the Duchess. "It IS you! You card, whatever are you doing here? Who are you hiding?"

The Hatter shrugged her manicured hand off of his shoulder and kept his eyes focused sharply on the menu, "I'm not hiding anyone, Duchess. Just looking for some lunch." His voice was nonchalant and casual, but the drawn eyebrows on his face told Lyss that he was annoyed, or at least mildly irritated.

"Aren't you going to introduce me, Hatty?" the noble lady squeaked out, "Oh, no, hold the introductions! I must find the others. Ladies!" she called out. The Hatter sighed and set his menu down, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his neck, pillowing himself as he closed his eyes. A rush of clicks became audible, and suddenly, a wall of divine dresses and powdered faces had their little table surrounded.

"Ladies, this is my...friend, Lyss," the Hatter said, gesturing to her. "Lyss, this is..." he paused for a breath, "Tiger-Lily, Rose, Daisy, Violet, Larkspur, and, of course, Duchess."

"So pleased to meet you."

"A delight, really."

"Are you new here?"

"Obviously, Daisy, you'd have met her already if she were old."

"Oh, hush, it's just a simple question."

"What a nice curtsey you have, Miss Lyss."

"You have the strangest petals."

Here, Lyss broke into the conversation, "I'm sorry, what?"

This prompted dozens of instant replies.

"Your petals-"

"-silly girl-"

"It's obvious-"

"-so like a weed-"

"Yes, a weed!"

"-poor lower class-"

"A shame really, such a pretty face-"

Lyss looked down at her dress. It seemed perfectly fine to her. Sure, it was nothing compared to the extravagance of the dresses before her, but she was certain that simplicity had just the same potential for beauty as lavishness.

"Enough, ladies. We have a lunch to get to, and I'm sure you have a Queen to report back to," the Hatter cut in, effectively silencing the small court.

"Well then," the Duchess said, her high voice chilling, "We shan't keep you. Do call on me later, Hatty," she said as she ushered the ladies away. He let them walk a few paces before calling out:

"Do give your babe my love, Duchess."

She turned sharply, and glared at him, then checked her surroundings and softened her features a bit.

"Oh, it's much too late for that, Hatty!" she said with a forced laugh.

They watched as the ladies whisked away in their opulent gowns, then placed their tea order before further discussion.

"So," Lyss began, "those are the court ladies?"

"Yes," the Hatter replied, then smirked, "I call them the Flowers. Don't take them seriously. Everyone's a weed in their eyes."

"Of course," she said with a soft sigh. "I wasn't, you know. I was just..."

"Unsettled."

She nodded.

Their tea order arrived, silencing their conversation momentarily. Lyss, however, still had more to say, and so she very soon resumed talking.

"Hatty?"

"_Do not call me that_," he growled, slamming his teacup back on its saucer. She giggled.

"I wasn't planning to. What was that you said about her child?" she asked, intense curiosity coloring her question.

"Ah, the pig?"

Lyss' brow furrowed, "The pig? You mean that little creature was her-"

"Son, yes."

Lyss paused. That was certainly unexpected, "What did she mean about it being too late?"

The Hatter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "He's gone already."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone," he said, a bit sharply.

His short silence left her unsatisfied, "Elaborate, please."

"She sold him."

"Sold him? To who?"

"Probably Carpenter or Walrus"

"Who are they?"

"The butchers."

"THEY'RE BUTCHERS?" she shouted, her mouth open and eyes wide.

The Hatter tried to hush her, "Yes, butchers. Second one this year."

"She sold her child to a butcher?" she said, her mind whirring with the disturbing information.

The Hatter leaned forward and rubbed his face quickly with his hands, resting his gloved index finger on his temple, "Yes, Lyss, she sold her very own _offspring_ to a _heartless_ meat killing _machine_." He gestured as he spoke, calling forth an air of the dramatic and an attitude that had sadly accepted the ways of others with the knowledge that he could not change them.

"Well, we have to go get him!" She sprang up from the table and turned to walk away, only to be caught by the hand of the Hatter. "Let me go! This isn't right!" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry, you've got time. I'll take you to their shop."

Lyss stood fast and prevailed, "No. We go now, just in case. Please." He took a large gulp of his tea and stood. A hand on her back gently led her away from the cafe and down the street. Soon, they reached a quiet alley, away from the crowds of the city.

"I just..." Lyss spoke, trailing off to find better words, "I don't..."

She heard the Hatter sigh, "I know."

Suddenly feeling unable to stand, Lyss stopped and leaned her back against the brick wall of a building. She closed her eyes and nearly sank to her knees before remembering that she was in a dress-a long dress, yes, but a dress nonetheless-and she was reminded that she was still getting accustomed to everything here. That she was an outsider, that she was new and different, yet same to those that remembered. She took a shaky breath and squeezed her eyes tighter, determined not to do something foolish, like cry. When she felt herself composed, she opened her eyes and quickly wiped away a few escaped tears. The Hatter was looking at her very inquisitively, like she was an experiment he was observing and noting on-the key to proving his hypothesis and garnering him distinction among his peers; Darwin and not Mendel. He straightened when he saw that she was perfectly fine, and from behind his back he produced an object: a book. She gasped in surprise.

"You never made it to the fictional section of the library, you know. They have an excellent selection," he said as he handed it to her. She smiled.

"How did you hide it? I thought you were with me the whole time!" she exclaimed, her smile widening as her fingers gently traced the cover's title. _Cupid and Psyche_. "Only admired, never loved," she whispered, and for a moment she lost herself. A soft cough from the Hatter broke her of her daydream, and she started.

"I believe you have a piglet to save?" he said, gesturing down the alley.

"Oh! Yes!" and she took off, walking as fast as she could, hoping that she wouldn't be too late, and not caring that she had no idea where she was going without the Hatter to lead her.

"Door's on the left. Light blue color," he called after her, not bothering to lengthen his stride to catch her. She felt her heart run a little faster as the anticipation of the door increased; each step brought her closer and closer and all she could do was hope that enough seconds remained for her to right a horrible wrong. Several clacks of her heels later, and she found herself nearly passing over a very nondescript blue door, and she doubled back, looking for confirmation from the Hatter.

"That's the one," he said, nodding.

She pursed her lips, "It's very...plain."

"Yes, well," he began, "We can't very well go through the front entrance when the potential for controversy surrounds your purchase."

Lyss gasped, and put her hand over her mouth, "Oh no! I don't have any money." She stared at the door, feeling near tears as her eyes watered. Of course she would need to purchase the pig-he was an object, a good, wasn't he?

"Don't worry about that," the Hatter said, "I've got plenty to share." He dug around in his coat pockets for a time before pulling out a fistful of coins, which he held out to her, "Here."

Shaking her head, she tried desperately to decline, but he insisted, and after a mild argument about it, she reluctantly accepted his aid, storing the money with her books. While she did, he reached over her head and knocked on the door, and the pair waited as seconds mimicked minutes and minutes mimicked hours.

Finally, a panel of the door slid open, revealing only the dark eyes of a man. In a gruff voice, he barked out, "State your business!"

Lyss opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the Hatter, who said, "She's looking for a pig you may have recently acquired. Can you get that for her? And make sure it's alive." The panel slid shut without another word from the man, and the two were left to wait. Lyss wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say, and so they stayed in silence. Nothing could be heard through the door, except for one muffled bang; Lyss wondered if the walls were soundproof. At last, the door creaked open, and a hand holding a small piglet appeared. The same gruff voice spoke, "This the one?"

"Yes," Lyss said. The Hatter looked at her quizzically, "I recognize him from the palace," she whispered.

"How much?" the Hatter asked. The man named his price, something about _ruppounds_, and the Hatter helped Lyss count out the cost. An exchange was made, and Lyss walked away with a piglet in her arms. Their task done, the pair decided to walk back to the Hare's for tea.

"Just out of curiosity," the Hatter said as they reached the woods, "What exactly are you planning on doing with that?" he asked, indicating to the pig.

Lyss paused, "You know, I have no idea." They continued their walk quietly, until Lyss added, "I was just worried about saving him."

The Hatter turned back to her, holding a branch aside so she could walk through, "A very noble gesture. I'm sure you'll find something to do with him."

Lyss scratched her ear; it had been bugging her since they entered the woods, "Yes, I'm sure I will."

They reached the Hare's house just in time for tea, and stern looks and scoldings were given to the both of them for their close call. After a bit of persuasion, they sat down for their afternoon tradition, and Lyss let the piglet run loose in the yard. Her ear continued to be a bother, and so she excused herself so that she might investigate it some. Once inside, she heard a small, familiar voice speak directly into her ear, and she sighed, for she knew what was happening.

"Hello, Gnat," she said, "Can I help you with anything?"

"Just checking in on things," his small voice whispered. "Do you need any help with anything?"

Lyss thought for a moment, certain that the small creature would be of no help to her, until something dawned on her.

"Actually," she began, "I'd like you to keep an eye out for a job."

"Of course," he said, and she felt her ear become instantly relieved as he flew out of her ear. She smiled to herself. Things were looking up.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! And it didn't take two months to complete! Unfortunately, the next chapter will probably take some time to work on and publish as I'm starting to get pretty busy once again, but I shall do my best to get it up as soon as possible. Please enjoy this chapter, and let me know your thoughts! Thanks, and happy reading!_

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><p>"O plunge your hands in water,<br>Plunge them in up to the wrist;  
>Stare, stare in the basin<br>And wonder what you've missed."  
>-"As I Walked Out One Evening" by W.H. Auden<p>

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><p>They met in a dark corner of the world one night. It was her first one-on-one encounter with the Knave, and she was nervous. Perhaps she'd misjudged him. Perhaps not. She put on an air of confidence, though, determined not to let him see her as anything but powerful.<p>

"You're late," he said.

She let out a low chuckle, "Couldn't get away sooner. It's a long walk, you know."

"What do you want?"

She smiled, "It's awful rude of you to skip right over the pleasantries."

"I treat suspicious people as such."

"I'm suspicious now?"

"You never weren't."

"Well."

Pause. Silence. Quiet.

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Answer what?"

"_What do you want_?"

"You know what I want."

"Do I?"

"It's the same thing you want."

"And what is that?"

She leaned in close, and whispered, "Power."

"And how do you plan on getting that?"

"With your help, of course. We'd be great, you know."

"I hope you aren't suggesting anything beyond platonic relations."

"Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed, barely masking a real disgust. She continued, "She doesn't love you, you know."

"Yes, she does."

"Then why did she marry someone else? Why doesn't she marry you now that he's gone? She's using you, Knave."

"She had him beheaded."

"Only so she could hold all the power."

Pause.

"Say I was considering this. What's your plan?"

She grinned, and whispered, "Off with her head."

"And from there?"

"Ah, the genius part!" She grinned wider, "An unknown coup. And then we'll have the power."

More silence, and then she leaned towards the Knave and said, "If I were you, I'd do more than just consider this. I need you for this to work. And no one will ever know."

Quiet.

"Deal."

They shook on it, and slunk back to the corners where people thought they knew them but didn't.

* * *

><p>The Hatter wanted to take her to a lake that day, and it took a great many pleas for him to finally convince or otherwise annoy her enough to agree.<p>

"Let's go to the lake."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't like water."

"You liked water perfectly fine in England."

"That was different."

"How so?"

"It was a river. It was small."

"It's a small lake."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"The water in the lake doesn't even move like the river. It's perfectly still."

"Doesn't matter."

"Please?"

"No!"

"Lyyyyyyyyyssssssssss."

The whining was where she drew the line.

"Fine," she said, and he jumped for joy and victory. "But I am not going any closer to it than I have to," she insisted, and he deflated a bit, though a clever smirk still remained on his lips. She smirked right back, pleased that she had, to an extent, been as stubborn as he had been.

They set off right away, all to ensure that they would be back by the afternoon, and, as with the city, they seemed to meander meaninglessly through the forest-which Lyss had learned, thanks to her reading, was named the Tulgey Wood-when, rather abruptly, the path they walked on split in two and just to their left, a small, tiny sliver of blue could be seen. And that was when Lyss planted her feet and steadfastly refused to budge another step, much to the Hatter's chagrin.

"You can't even see the lake from here!" he insisted.

"How do you know what I can and cannot see? I can see it perfectly fine!" Lyss retorted.

"Impossible."

"Not so."

"I have certain vertical advantages to you, Lyss, and I cannot see the lake. You couldn't possibly spot it from there," the Hatter tried to reason with her.

"You only seem so much taller because of that hat!" she bit back.

The Hatter considered this for a moment, looking down to Lyss and glancing up towards his hat, carefully calculating the distances, before replying, "No, I'm fairly certain I'm just a good deal taller, actually."

Suddenly, out of no where, Chesh came crashing through a bush that lay along the Left Path. He was soaked through and looked incredibly displeased, his eyes set to a glare and his mouth twisted in a scowl. Chesh walked right past the pair, mumbling under his breath. He paused to wring out his suit coat, and then in one swift motion he removed the gun from his trousers and threw it to the ground, and continued on his way, either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the presence of Lyss and the Hatter. The pair glanced at each other, and then Lyss raced forward to pick up the weapon.

"Don't! Those are dangerous!" the Hatter called after her, but his plea went unheard by Lyss. Cautiously, she knelt by the gun and carefully nudged it with her finger. When nothing happened, she used her thumb and forefinger to pick it up and place it in her purse. She turned back to the Hatter.

"It's waterlogged. It's completely useless." She walked back over to her companion, "It can't hurt anybody." The Hatter seemed to relax a bit, letting out an audible breath and running his hand through his hair.

"You're sure?"

"Completely," she said, and then a thought occurred to her. "Let's go all the way to the lake. We'll make sure it's useless. Okay?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't think that's necessary."

"You're sure?"

"Completely," he said quietly, a soft laugh following his word. "But..."

She sighed, "But what?"

"It really is a very beautiful lake. A must-see. A real tourist spot. The third Wonder of Wonderland. A true-"

"Fine. _Fine_. We'll go." Lyss turned in the direction of the Left Path and began to stomp her way forward as best as she could in her shoes, only to pause a few steps in when her nerves overtook her and she shakily muttered, "You first," to the Hatter.

With the Hatter leading the way, they soon reached a rounded edge of the shore that gave way to the unnaturally blue lake. It was a blue that was entirely clear near the lake's sandy shore, and gradually gave way to an opaque aquamarine at the very center. In the distance, Lyss thought she spotted the Dodo and a few of the other birds swimming on the waters, and she wondered if they inhabited this area frequently.

Silently, the Hatter took Lyss' elbow and gently urged her forward to a little wooden dock that jutted just a few feet over the lake. She heard the crunch of her boot marking her footprint on the sand and the creak of the wood as the pair took their first steps onto the dock, but she did not hear her breath one bit-either due to the blood ringing in her ears as embarrassment and genuine terror seized her, or due to the fact that she likely stopped breathing altogether, though it could also be said to be a dreadful combination of both, which it likely was. Lyss sensed rather than felt the Hatter move his hand away, and instinctually, she grabbed his hand back and gripped it tightly.

"_What are you doing_?" she said, panicked. "_You do not let me go_. Do you understand me? Do. _Not_. Let. _Go_," she said through gritted teeth.

This, however, only served to fluster the poor man, who stuttered, "O-okay," and immediately returned his hand to her elbow and focused instead on regaining the blood circulation in his fingers. He looked to her face, which was quite noticeably devoid of much of its usual color.

"Lyss," he whispered, "You're safe."

"Howdoyou-"

"I've got you."

"Whaddifyouleggo."

"I won't. Promise."

Lyss took a very long breath in through her nose, "I feel so strange here," she confided. "Like I've-" she trailed off, thinking hard. "This is a saltwater lake, isn't it?"

The Hatter raised his right eyebrow, and cautiously questioned, "How did you know that?"

"I...um, read-I read it," she fibbed, "In one of the books I got."

He stared at her for a very long time, as if trying to find something in her face that would answer a hidden question. Finally, he asked, "Lyss, are you sure you only read it?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "How else would I have known?" She tried giving a small laugh, but nothing she did erased the strange look on the Hatter's face.

"Put your hands in the water," he directed.

"What?"

"Put your hands in-"

"I heard you the first time," she snapped.

"Well, then why did you say that?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"Because, I just...did, okay?" She was growing quite worried that something was wrong; there was a certain internal suspicion that was increasing its dominance of her every minute. _Run run run run run_. "Why do you want me to," she gulped, loudly, "To...do that?"

He gave her a faint smile, "I just want to see if the water is nice today."

She pursed her lips, "Why don't you do it?" Her arms crossed tightly across her chest and she took a step backwards, towards the shore. He held up his gloved hands and made some excuse about not wanting to get them wet, and when she countered by suggesting that he take his gloves off, he sighed and insisted that she do as he asked.

"Please, Lyss."

She bit her lower lip, "Just my hands?"

"Just your hands."

With that, she strode boldly to the lake's edge, and, despite her shaking, she knelt to the shore and plunged her hands below the surface. She closed her eyes, still encompassed in a feeling of strangeness as the cool water washed over her skin. Three slow breaths followed, and finally, she opened her eyes and looked right to the Hatter.

"Now what?"

He walked over and knelt beside her, "Do you feel anything?"

She looked out over the lake as she spoke, "Only strangeness."

"What kind of strangeness?"

"Like...um. Some sort of..." She sighed. "Déjà vu? But...not? I don't really know how to explain it," she admitted. The man stood and shuffled a few paces away. "Hatter," Lyss squeaked out, "Hatter, what is going on?"

He turned to look at her and shook his head, bewildered. "I don't know."

She gave the lake one last look before saying, "I think we should leave."

And so they left, nearly running the entire way back to the Hare's garden for tea.

When they were quite close to the Hare's house, the paths becoming quite familiar, the pair slowed down their pace to a gentle walk; it was on this path that Lyss first noticed a now too familiar itch in her ear, and so she let the Hatter walk a good deal in front of her so that she could have a proper discourse with her insect friend.

"Did you find anything?" she murmured, doing her best to make as little sound as possible while retaining clarity of speech.

"Only one," the Gnat's faint voice talked in her ear, "But, given your situation, I'd say it's quite a nice option."

"What is it?" she asked.

"What's what?" the Hatter called back to her.

"Oh, nothing!" she tried to convince him, "I didn't say anything, actually."

The Hater only shrugged, as if expecting that response, and went on trudging through the forest, stopping occasionally to hold aside branches or to kick at small stones resting peacefully on the path.

The Gnat, for his part, had enough sense to not talk as the Hatter did, and after a few moments of silence, he presumed that the conversation was over, so he began to confide his findings to her. "The White Rabbit has a spare cottage in these woods that he uses sparingly. He used to have a housekeeper for it a long time ago, but she moved on and now the place has fallen into a bit of disrepair. He needs someone to keep it tidy, and he's offering pay as well as free boarding in the cottage."

"I'll take it," Lyss said, and she felt a giddy excitement rise in her stomach. She was going to have a house and a job-how splendid!

"I'll be sure to tell him. When can you move in?"

"Tonight," she whispered.

"Excellent," the Gnat said, and he flew away just as the gate to the Hare's backyard came into sight.

The pair arrived well before it was reasonably time for tea, and so instead they sat themselves down to pick at the leftovers from yesterday and read some. The Hatter picked up a very worn newspaper, while Lyss occupied the time with a heavy volume called _Wonderland Economy-Selling, Trading, and the Market_. It was a very dry read-quite literally, as the pages themselves appeared so brittle that she worried about ripping them with each turn of the page, and quite figuratively, as economics had always bored her, though the obtained knowledge was worth the somniferous sentences. When she felt her eyes struggle a little too hard to remain open, she gave up on the book entirely, and instead took to watching the Hare bake the afternoon's treats through the window, and when this, too, became a dull activity, she watched the little piglet she had adopted spin in circles around the leg of the table.

"How is it even possible?"

The Hatter glanced up from his paper; she had a strong suspicion that he hadn't really been reading it anyway, "How is what possible?" he asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

Lyss gestured to the small creature, "Him. I know this is Wonderland and that the rules don't always apply here, but I just don't understand how Duchess could possibly have a pig for a child." She paused, contemplating, "I haven't found anything in my books about it, either."

"So you have an unexplained phenomenon on your hands," he stated.

She shrugged, "I suppose that's one way to put it."

"Well!" he exclaimed. The Hatter grabbed her hands and pulled her in close, ensuring that she would be able to understand him as he spoke in lower tones reserved for scandal and secrets. "Allow me to explain. You see, Duchess births human children, but I'm afraid that they inherit too much from her, and they very soon turn into pigs."

Lyss stared at him wide-eyed, "What do they inherit, exactly?"

"Too much greed," he chuckled sadly.

"That's insane."

"That's Wonderland."

They stopped their discussion for a time, sipping their tea to occupy themselves instead. Lyss pondered the right time to tell him about the Gnat's information, though she had already resolved that no time would ever feel quite right and that she ought to just say something that very instant.

"The scones are good," was what she said instead.

He smirked at her, "The Hare's doing. I make it a point to never enter the kitchen."

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Well," he began with a chuckle, "Let's just say that the last time I tried to make something for tea time, special forces had to be called in."

"What kinds of special forces?" she asked, smiling, "Firefighters? Police officers?"

The Hatter took a sip of his tea, "Something like that, sure."

Lyss' smile faltered, "I'm sorry, they're probably called something different here, aren't they?" She curled her lower lip underneath her teeth, feeling an acute awareness of her outsiderness.

The Hatter leaned forward, close to her face, "Here, it's pretty much the Cards, and nothing else." He moved back and buttered a scone, "Queen's army."

"Oh," Lyss said meekly, looking down at her hands, "I didn't know."

He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow, "It's okay, you know. To not know. There are plenty of people who would give a lot to be in your situation."

She rolled her eyes at him, "I just don't like feeling like a stranger."

He shrugged, "You'll get used to it."

"Can you promise that?"

"Not at all. But I'll do my best to help." He smiled at her, "Besides, the Queen said I had to, didn't she?"

Lyss laughed, "Oh, don't bring up that horrid woman!" she said, though she giggled through her sentence in spite of herself. They left their conversation at that, the Hatter returning to not reading his paper and Lyss returning to her attempts to memorize the madness of the marketplace economy. But she couldn't quite focus clearly on the words; sentences were read and reread several times and the meaning never once sunk in. She shut the thick book, the heavy cover making a loud _thud_ as it connected with its other half, and it was then that she noticed that the Hatter was staring rather intently at her. They stayed like that for a bit, blue eyes meeting violet eyes.

"Your hair has a bit of red in it today," Lyss casually mentioned, attempting to spark some sort of conversation and to discontinue their staring match.

"Does it?"

She nodded, and then blurted out, "I've found a house." Her hands suddenly became the most interesting things she had ever seen, and her gaze was distracted by them as she continued to speak. "The White Rabbit, he's got a spare cottage somewhere, and he needs someone to clean it up, and so I'm going to go there and work and live and. Um," she paused, "And that's really all I know so far."

The Hatter beamed, "That's wonderful! I know exactly where that cottage is, actually!"

Lyss' head shot up, "You're not mad?"

"In what sense?"

She laughed, "The angry sense."

"Not at all. Why should I be?"

Lyss shook her head, "I have no idea. I just...thought you would be."

He shrugged, "I don't mind at all. The Hare, however, might miss having a clean house." Lyss blushed. "What, did you think I hadn't noticed?"

"Yes," she mumbled, focusing on picking at a scone instead of looking him in the eye.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It would be if you were from my world."

"Oh."

An unsettling-perhaps awkward-silence stretched on between them then, as each pondered the exquisite strangeness of the other person.

"When do you move in?" the Hatter finally thought to ask.

"As soon as possible, I think. Tonight, maybe. After tea," she answered.

"Splendid!" he proclaimed, throwing his arms up and grinning widely. "We'll get you all settled in soon enough!"

"We?"

"Well, you can't expect the Hare and I to just sit back and not help, can you?" he incredulously asked her.

Lyss tried to hide the smile creeping onto her face, though her efforts failed quite spectacularly, "I just didn't think you'd have the time."

"Oh no, there's plenty of time!" the man insisted, "I don't get to work until well into the night."

"You work at night?"

"Haberdashery. Sometimes millinery," was his casual reply; it neither confirmed nor denied his odd occupational hours.

"When do you sleep?"

The Hatter scrunched up his eyebrows, frowning, "I don't think I do," he said very slowly, as if realizing the truth of his words as they were spoken.

"Oh."

Another unsettling or awkward silence would have nestled itself between them yet again, but instead, the pair's impending quietness was interrupted by the Hare bursting through the backdoor, fresh baked goods and treats in his hands, declaring loudly that now they could have a proper tea, and wouldn't they give him a hand in doing away with all of these horribly stale foods that littered the table. Rather than clear everything away, they simply moved all of the old treats to one end of the table and situated themselves at the other, perceivably clean, end. The Hare and the Hatter seemed to think nothing of this, and Lyss smiled to herself as thoughts of the pair declaring that they had to move down entered her imagination. Small talk was made over a new tart recipe the Hare had discovered, and about how the tea was really quite delicious, until Lyss decided to be bold for a moment.

"Hare," she began, "I'm moving out. I've found a house." He looked at her sharply, then clanged his cup to the table, missing his saucer by just a bit.

"Darn it!" he exclaimed, "Now I have to start doing the dishes again!"

A rather unladylike snort exploded from Lyss, and this only made the Hare and the Hatter jump in surprise. And yet, she couldn't stop laughing, and eventually, after recovering from their shock, the other two joined her. They very soon finished up their tea, and afterwards, the trio went upstairs to the room Lyss had been using, and gathered up her many skirts and few acquired trinkets, as well as her small collection of library books. Between the three of them, everything was able to be carried, and, piglet in tow, they set off for Lyss' new house, which was only a short walk from the Hare's house, a small comfort for the girl. Knowing her friends were quite near, they quickly settled her in and left her to explore the cottage on her own after insisting that she visit them the very next day to tell them all about how she was getting on.

She looked about the cottage only for a little bit, deciding that looking about in the daylight would be a better idea. All she did was make a small cup of tea, changed into her nightclothes, and settled into bed with one of her many books. For the first time since arriving in Wonderland, she felt wholly comfortable.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: I apologize profusely for the long wait for this chapter! For those of you still with us, I greatly appreciate your undying patience, and would like to personally assure that the next chapter will not have a wait so long. This is a very lengthy chapter, and I do hope it was worth the wait. Currently, it's one of my favorite chapters. As always, I love hearing your thoughts, good or bad, and I will love you forever if you leave a review. Thank you, and happy reading!_

* * *

><p>"Hell, it is well known, has no fury like a woman who wants her tea and can't get it."<p>

-P.G. Wodehouse

* * *

><p>He didn't sleep, he couldn't sleep, because everything was growing white.<p>

"You do not sleep the sleep of children."

"Indeed not."

"How do you sleep, then?"

"Like the damned."

* * *

><p>The dazed and confused panic that she had thought herself quite grown out of-or at the very least accustomed to beyond the point of notice-returned in full force that next morning, as she was once again left alone to gather her bearings. The <em>Where am I?<em>'s and the _What am I doing here?_'s and the ever important _I don't believe I've ever seen this room before and as such am quite perplexed_ ran across her brain at relatively even intervals. In the morning fog that surrounded her, Lyss was quite inclined to think these things individually and multiple times over, never truly pausing to contemplate each, only rushing on to the next repeated thought, until rather suddenly:

_House. Job. White Rabbit. _

And, reassured, she scurried out of bed to make herself a pot of tea.

The cottage was small, rather perfect for single occupancy; it seemed to be about three to five rooms under the Hare's house. Upstairs was a bedroom, where Lyss had spent the night, and a single closet for storing whatever miscellaneous items happened to be lying about that oughtn't. A deep chestnut staircase ran precisely fifteen steps to connect the two floors, and from the upstairs vantage, it led to an ornately carved front door. The handrail of the staircase was curved ever so slightly at the bottom, giving it an air of unintentional pretension (though, it appeared _so_ unintentional that it was in fact quite likely to be intentional in its unintentional air). Lyss desired nothing more than to test what sorts of speeds could be reached by sliding down such a precise handrail, though the unshakeable presence of the panopticon made her take the stairs in the conventional way.

To the left of these stairs was the rest of the house: there was first a welcoming living room; just behind that, the kitchen, separated from the previous room by a smooth archway and a narrow hallway. Attached to the kitchen was a glass breakfast room, overlooking the delightful garden and the woods that lay just beyond it. Through a swinging door in the kitchen, one could find a modest dining room, fit for entertaining just a few notable companions (certainly, the table in the Hare's lawn would never fit in such a space). The last room of the cottage seemed to serve no obvious purpose at all except perhaps to hold up the second floor, and the White Rabbit's decorating did not help Lyss discern what exactly the function of the space was.

There was, however, one curious and concerning feature of the cottage. Within that narrow hallway between living room and kitchen was a very plain door. Lyss, never one to leave a door with unknown contents behind it unopened, swung the door open and was met only with the smooth wood of the wall. She frowned, and proceeded to open and close the door in rapid succession, hoping that perhaps a room would just decide to make itself known if she annoyed it enough. Nothing of the sort happened, and exasperated, she continued into the kitchen to make herself that bit of tea mentioned so long ago.

Or at least, that had been her plan until a knock on the door turned her away from the task. Frowning, she padded across the living room and peered into a little peephole in the door. She hadn't been expecting company, as evidenced by her nightclothes, but when she saw a vaguely familiar and unnaturally pale man on her doorstep, she thought it best to open the door.

"Mr. White Rabbit, I wasn't expecting to see you this morning!" Lyss greeted him, though not as warmly as she might have under normal circumstances.

"I-I do apologize, Miss Lyss. I would have sent notice but I-I-I'm running very late." He fumbled with a pocket watch, like he was unsure if he should put it away or if everything would be easier if it were out.

"Well, no matter. Do come in." She held the door open wider so that he could enter.

The man continued to fidget uncomfortably, "Just wanted to check in with you. Haven't done much with the place, have you?"

Lyss grinned cheekily, "Well, I've not exactly been here very long."

The man nodded, "Right, right. Right."

An awkward silence.

"You may be in your rabbit form, you know. I don't mind at all. In fact, I've become rather used to it." _Well_, Lyss mentally amended, _not on him, but on other creatures certainly._

"Oh, well, that is a comfort. Do stand back a bit, dear." Soon, rather than the curious looking man before her, a rabbit stood in his place. "Ah, much better! I have always found this to be the more comfortable and natural form." With his transformation, his nervous fidgeting vanished, though he still glanced periodically at the watch in his hand.

"Do all animals here change into humans?" Lyss asked, unable to mask her curiosity about such things.

"Oh, no, not at all! Only those who find it necessary can," the Rabbit informed her.

"So...someone like the Cheshire Cat would find a great use of this ability?" She quickly allowed herself a moment to hope that the Rabbit and Chesh weren't particularly close friends who might tell each other of such strangely pointed conversations.

"Indeed. The Cheshire Cat is, for all his pomp and circumstance, still a cat, and thus becomes rather skittish when it comes to bodies of water." The Rabbit swung his watch's chain back and forth slightly, an oddly ponderous look on his face. "Take the Pool of Tears, for instance. He's always been very intrigued by that area, but he wouldn't dare go near it as a feline." The Rabbit shrugged, "But that's entirely irrelevant. What I'm here for is to make sure you know what the job entails." He looked again at his watch and squeaked, "We'll have to make it quick, though. Dust once a week, tend to the gardens, wash any linens that need washing, clean the dishes if you use them. Just keep everything neat and precise. Don't misplace things. I keep a spare pair of gloves in the house for emergency purposes, and the last maid here, Mary Ann, was always putting them in the wrong spot! Cost me quite a lot of time. And speaking of time, I must be going!" He ran out the door, calling back to her, "Good day! Oh my, I'm terribly late."

Lyss felt like she had hardly spoken a word to him in their entire conversation. Sighing, she decided it would be best to change out of her nightclothes before any other unexpected or unwelcome guests made their way to her cottage in the woods. Upon reaching her room, she saw the book she had been reading last night lying on the ground, and, after changing into a black frock with puffy black and white striped sleeves, she picked it up and began where she had left off, though with little hope of actually finding anything she was really looking for.

* * *

><p>Hours later, much past lunchtime and just past tea time, Lyss had finished her book and slammed it shut, tossing it onto her nightstand without much care or delicacy. Certainly, the book had been interesting, but for a young woman looking to start some sort of revolution, it was disappointing and fruitless. There was nothing in the public library that would point her in the right direction, and she felt too many negative things about her task: annoyance, frustration, self-disappointment.<p>

She also felt a strong sense of caution, warning her that any steps she took would be calculated by others with far more strategic experience than she could hope to gain by reading a book or two.

With a grunt of frustration, she whirled around and aimed a swift kick directly at the bottom of her dresser. It was pointless action, she knew, but it still felt right to do something. Even if that something meant that she would have to clean up fallen picture frames and return them to their correct spot on the dresser.

At the very least, she did not kick strongly enough to make a dent, and so she did not spend her time sanding and buffering out a chip.

Bending down, she began to pick up the frames, dusting them with her hand before replacing them. There were a good many small little frames, and all held weathered, old, yellowing pictures. Most contained artistically unfocused shots of flowers or other natural landscapes, but one held the portrait of a young woman. The aging photo paper made it nearly impossible to discern any standout features, but she seemed to have curly light hair and very large, dark eyes. The moment captured was of her smiling, and Lyss found herself smiling back at the lovely girl. She had an infectious smile, even through her mere photo. Carefully, Lyss placed the woman's portrait just to the right of a large oval mirror that hung above the dresser, and she stepped away. _Everything in order_. She glanced once more at herself in the mirror and then at the girl and frowned. It was almost like looking at a sister.

A clock struck the hour somewhere downstairs, and Lyss started. She had lost track of the time, and to her horror, she counted out six chimes. Recalling her promise to the Hare and the Hatter, she rushed downstairs and out the door, not even checking that she appeared presentable, only bothering to grab a flimsy scarlet scarf to complete her look. Lyss wasn't sure if she would ever be forgiven for missing tea.

Arriving at the Hare's house, Lyss expected to be brushed aside by her two friends as they casually ignored her as punishment. She expected to be dragged about the table with declarations of "move down" and "clean cup". She expected to eventually be forgiven, and she expected to maybe eat dinner with them, and she expected to ask the Hatter questions about how she was supposed to handle this mess that the Queen had tasked her.

She did not expect to walk into the middle of a celebration of some sort.

The party, quite apparently in full swing, was as strange and lively as such a soiree throw by two such beings would be assumed to be, and she was more than a little cross with their neglect of her invitation. Lyss was left to stew in these feelings alone, though; there were so many people and such little visibility of the man in the hat, and so instead she sat herself down at the table, illuminated by bizarre and colorful lanterns, and poured herself a cup of tea. There were only two other people at the far end of the table, drinking something that looked much stronger than tea and splitting one of the many delicious desserts laid out for the enjoyment of the guests. They had chosen a very elaborate dish-it looked like two cakes were stacked on top of each other, and laden with strawberries, chocolate, and a heavy dollop of a rich frosting. Together, the pair made a beautiful couple: the man was in a clean gray suit, and the lady was in an elegant black dress overlain with white lace. She accessorized with black opera gloves and a scarlet scarf. Lyss, from her distance, could only hear the man occasionally raise his voice to insist that he "_never_ ate dessert", and the woman, equally loud, chastising him for his hypocrisy, because "if he didn't like dessert, then he should stop eating hers".

Her fascination with the bickering couple distracted her enough that she never saw the hosts make their way over to her and seat themselves to her right, and so she visibly jumped when the Hatter sighed rather loudly.

"Rather dull party, isn't it?" He reached over and swiped her teacup from her, draining the liquid in one gulp-all before she'd even had a chance to take a sip for herself.

"Well, it's _your_ party. If you think it's dull, it's your job to entertain," Lyss said tersely, remembering her annoyance with the pair.

"Oh, it's not my party," the Hatter insisted.

"Nor mine!" piped the Hare.

Lyss looked at them incredulously, "And what? These people all just showed up here at once, entirely unannounced, and the party simply began without your knowledge?"

The Hatter, now on teacup number two, only nodded as he downed another drink. "Needs to be stronger if I'm to host. Hand me a spirit so that I may raise mine," he muttered to the Hare.

"You're both ridiculous. How do you expect me to believe that?" She shook her head and swiftly stood, planning to walk far away from this conversation, only to bump into the Hatter as he blocked her way.

"I think sometimes you forget that you're in a place where your rules don't apply," he reminded her, and Lyss crossed her arms, entirely content to be as ill-tempered as she could, when the Hare unexpectedly stood on the table and, a glass of champagne lifted, screamed out:

"THIS. IS. WONDERLAAAAAAAND!"

And Lyss couldn't help but laugh, particularly when each guest let out a cheer in response and took a drink. She looked back at the Hatter, now holding two champagne glasses himself, and she took the one he offered her and had a small sip.

"Stay awhile?" he asked her, and she nodded, and he took her hand in his and whisked her into the strangest party she'd ever experienced.

Standing up, she could see that the Hatter was wearing the oddest mix of clothing: pinstriped maroon pants, a deep navy coat that ended just below his chest and billowed out to long tails, the green felt hat still firmly set on his head, a sleek black cane brandished in his gloved hands.

"What are you wearing?" she asked, incredulous.

Still leading them about the lawn, he tilted his head towards her and said, "You like it?"

"Um, that's one word for it, I suppose."

"I'm a _ringleader_, Lyss. Like in the circuses." He came to a full stop just underneath one of the hanging lanterns, positioned so that the beam of light hit him in a perfect spotlight. Dark shadows played across his face as he animatedly proclaimed, "I think I should have to do something horribly theatrical before long," and then he grinned widely. The Hatter straightened himself up, cleared his throat, and, gesturing with his cane as he spoke, shouted out the following speech:

"IN THIS CORNER we have THE LONG AND BOUNTIFUL TABLE OF EATING THINGS AT, where you can find a variety of teas and treats and bubbly drinks. Behind me, we have THE WILD AND RAUCOUS HOUSE OF THE HARE, where we were greeting arriving guests until we realized that they had all come in through the back gate and had started the party without us, and IN THIS CORNER, we have A GREAT MANY GUESTS and so there's hardly anything remotely fascinating over there, actually, for people are rarely as interesting as they appear to be."

However, contrary to the Hatter's words, Lyss found herself quite fascinated by a few select members of the crowd, notably the town librarian, Luna, and the unfamiliar couple she was talking to. The ladies caught each other's eye, and Luna smiled and waved her over. The Hatter had already wandered off to his latest venture, and so Lyss walked over to greet the kind woman.

"Lyss! Hello again!" Luna greeted, and she gave Lyss a sort of half-hug, like she was trying to not hug at all but simply couldn't resist. Luna fiddled with a necklace of sorts for a moment before turning to the couple she was with. "Lyss, this is Queen Light Crown and King Sheridan Crown of Neverland."

Lyss' eyes widened. "Neverland?"

Queen Light gave a genuine smile, "Yes! Have you ever been, Lyss?" The young woman shook her head. "Oh, well, you must visit us someday! We've heard so much about you, and we'd love to get to know you some more!" At this, Luna cleared her throat and gave Queen Light a significant, though uninterpretable, look, and the royal's smile faltered some. "I mean, not that we've heard too much about you, Ali-" King Sheridan swiftly cut her off.

"What my wife means to say is that we're always anxious to introduce people to other fairies and our way of life and such. Like a cross-cultural experience or something. Kind of like how Luna is both of Earth and-"

"Okay, let's just stop there, shall we?" Luna said, noticeably frazzled by her two friends.

Sheridan blushed, "Also, we need a babysitter."

Luna smacked her hand on her forehead, "I apologize for these two, Lyss. They aren't terribly skilled at casual discourse."

Lyss smiled, "It's perfectly alright. First encounters are almost always a bit awkward." Besides, she thought to herself, there was something comical about the way the trio talked to each other. The Queen and King were quite unlike any royals she had ever met before.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, _Lyss_," Queen Light emphasized, and she pulled Lyss into a gentle embrace, kissing her once on each cheek, hesitating to release her light grip on Lyss' forearms. King Sheridan did the same, though he was quick to back away.

"See you later, Lyss!" Luna waved goodbye before turning to her friends. Lyss walked away from the group to fetch herself a cup of tea, but as she left, she heard King Sheridan ask:

"Wait, so she's Al-?"

followed quickly by Queen Light exclaiming, "Sheridan!" and Luna sighing heavily.

Upon reaching the expansive tea table, Lyss began searching for a tea flavor she would enjoy. Several pots were entirely drained already, and pots she did find that were full smelled so smokily strong that she decided it was best to avoid drinking any. Finally, she found Darjeeling, and just as she was about to pour herself some, the Hare barreled into her skirts and nearly made her fall over. She grabbed onto a chair for support, hearing the distinct sound of a Hatter amused from somewhere in the sea of people.

"Hare!" she exclaimed, her disorientation orienting once again, "Are you alright?"

The poor Hare spun dizzily for a few moments, and Lyss thought he was going to faint. Finally, he spoke up, "I'd call that a success..." he faintly muttered. Lyss bent down and held the Hare's face steady in her hands as he readjusted himself. "Yes...quite a good toss."

"Toss? He threw you?" Lyss was dumbfounded. Of all the stupid, brainless, demeaning acts...

"On my urging, of course. We're trying to break our record. Hasn't happened yet though. Might have this time, if your skirts hadn't gotten in the way."

"You...this is normal behaviour?"

"Yes. He gets like this sometimes. Usually on a Sunday."

"Today is not a Sunday, though."

"Ah! Then it must be a Wednesday."

"No."

"Oh. Well, then, I believe it must assuredly be Tuesday. Yes."

Lyss nodded in agreement with the Hare, unable to bring herself to tell him that today was most assuredly _not_ a Tuesday. She wasn't sure if it was just the Hare's typical eccentricities or recent feats of Hare-throwing that was causing his confusion, and either way, she didn't much feel like disputing him further.

The Hatter ran over to meet them, flinging his cane wildly and crying out, "LYSS! HOW COULD YOU! WE WERE SO CLOSE!" He smacked his hand against his forehead, executed a perfect pirouette, and groaned in fake agony at the uncanny ability of Lyss' skirts to constantly get in the way of things.

She crossed her arms and imitated a haughtiness that she did not actually feel, "If you had called out a warning, I might have been able to do something about your unfortunate situation."

"There was no time for a warning! And is it so wild to assume that a person might be able to sense that a manic flying hare might be heading their way, and that said person might then get out of the bloody way to avoid being yet another casualty in the ongoing long-distance Hare tossing competition?

"Yes, it is, actually."

"Well then."

"I think you both need more champagne," the Hare interjected, and he produced two very full glasses of the stuff and scurried off. Silently, the Hatter raised his glass to Lyss, and she did the same before taking a sip. Unfortunately, watching the Hatter attempt to drink from the glass without hitting his rather large nose was quite comical, and she burst out laughing, the sip escaping as she did so.

The Hatter gave her a cheeky grin, "I've truly an excellent nose, don't I?"

She laughed, "Monsieur de Bergerac is your only rival."

They were silent for some time, as they always seemed to be, until the Hatter asked Lyss, "So, if you were unaware that there was a tremendously exciting soiree happening over here, what was your intent in visiting?"

Lyss swallowed a sip of her champagne, "Oh, yes! You know, I'd nearly forgotten the reason myself."

The Hatter nodded, "It's the kind of party that makes you forget things." He stared off into the crowd of guests and chewed on his lip, "I'm sure you'll remember in the morning, though."

"I said I'd _nearly_ forgotten. Your question has reminded me." She took another sip, "I've been going through all of those books from the library, and I just can't seem to find anything particularly useful in any of them." Lyss sighed, "It's very frustrating. I can't find anything about starting a revolution or-." He leaned forward and clamped his hand onto her mouth.

"We do not speak of such counter operations! Hedges and teapots have ears and whatnot," he whispered to her before glaring down at one peculiarly colored pot filled with some sort of tea-Lyss suspected it was the Darjeeling teapot from earlier-until it sprouted legs and darted to the other side of the table to lessen its particular offense to the hatted young man. His eyes darted from side to side, and then up to down, and then all around, and then he swiftly grabbed her wrist and tugged her inside the Hare's house and into a coat closet. He shut the door as quietly as he could, very careful of not attracting any more attention than he already did normally.

It was absolutely dark in their little corner of the world. Dark and small-Lyss couldn't see, but she could definitely feel the Hatter's coat brushing against her arms.

"You want us to talk in here?" she squeaked out, bracing her hands on the wall and the door, as if she was expecting the closet to start moving.

He never really answered her question; instead, he launched himself into a full on speech.

"The best way to start a revolution, I've found, is to spark something unexpected, but resonant. Like that terrible business regarding that Archduke fellow back where you come from."

"Franz Ferdinand?"

"Yes." Lyss felt him shift slightly. "Your skirts take up an awful lot of room."

"Perhaps we should find-"

"And so once you've done this incredibly unexpected but important thing, you can get people to rally around you and such. Though you also must keep Her Majesty pleased. So I suppose you really have two tasks." He lifted his hand, the gloves brushing softly against her shoulder as he did so. "One," and Lyss suspected that he was holding a solitary finger skyward as he said this, "Make the Queen think that you're trying to prevent a war. And two, start a war behind her back." He cleared his throat then, and the sound made Lyss jump.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"S'alright. I don't really use that toe often, anyway."

"Pity. I find toes pretty useful."

"So really what you ought to do is find the source of the unrest, as the Queen suggested to you, but then, instead of quieting it down, stir it up. Raise hell, or whatever it is you might say about that situation."

There was a pervading silence as Lyss thought it over.

"That's surprisingly simple."

"Were you expecting something more elaborate?"

"That's my hip."

"Oh, sorry."  
>"But yes, I was expecting more intricacy."<p>

"Well, you should be relieved to know that this is Wonderland. Anything can happen. The simple can become complex, the sane can become mad, and naivety can become hardened."

More silence.

"I feel like anything I say now is just going to ruin your profoundness."

They both chuckled, and then the Hatter momentarily had her hand in his, and he gave it a quick squeeze before opening the closet door and leading her back into the fête.

The pair first encountered the Hare, who promptly refilled their empty glasses, and then they wandered off on their own separate but intertwined paths; while they were not always talking to the same person, they were always in the same circle, like magnets coming together and falling apart.

Take Lyss' unusual and largely unremembered conversation with the rather androgynous partner of the flower Violet.

"Oh, I let her do what she likes. It makes her happy, and I want nothing more in life but for my wife to be as happy as possible. That's love, I suppose. When you stop wanting your own happiness and instead yearn for someone else to have yours." This was the only piece of the conversation with Variscite that stood out as memorable (besides, apparently, the formal introductions). In a party so remarkable, Lyss found it difficult to keep track of absolutely everything.

As evidenced, it was not a terribly important talk, as they hardly had a thing to talk about anyway, but it was memorable for the prevailing presence of a hat here, of coattails in her peripheral vision, of the occasional brush of a glove just at her shoulder as he passed on to another wild theatric. One time he passed by with Ibbil on his arm, and the dressmaker was so busy disdainfully eyeing the Hatter's ensemble that she didn't have time to disdainfully notice that Lyss hadn't put a measurable amount of effort into hers. Still, the interactions were everything champagne promises itself to be: bubbly, exciting, clear, and purely relieving when that hollow feeling that arises at the realization of an empty glass is done away with.

Whether or not the Hatter noticed this, and whether or not Lyss chose to acknowledge it, is absolutely unknown, as this section of the party becomes quite a bit foggy and muddled, and certainly actions at a party do not always reflect the genuine emotions of those to whom the party happens.

However, it is painfully clear that during this time, Lyss was still unable to procure a bit of tea, and that at some point, everyone was singing at once, though the song choice of each individual was not the same, and so it was a rather cacophonous but beautiful mess of sound and existence.

It was the ringleader of the group who brought things back to relative normalcy when he suggested that the band play a waltz, and so many guests toasted to his grand idea and then danced to this tune and things quieted down-though a few staunch and passionate guests continued their abrasive song. The trio of Lyss, the Hare, and the Hatter here snuck off to a corner of the garden, alone and quiet, and they sat themselves on the soft grass and pondered the stars and if they were faulty. Lying on that expansive lawn, the trio let themselves bask in their glorious caffeination (excluding Lyss, naturally, as she hadn't a single cup of tea all day) and slight intoxication. They didn't really talk about anything; all they did was giggle randomly from time to time, without any apparent prompting. Therefore, Lyss was surprised when their ringleader brought up a very serious discussion, and by the end of it, the world felt a little less fuzzy one way and much more fuzzy in another.

"Lyss," he spoke her name rather solemnly, a tired drawl to his voice, "Are we friends?"

She was quite puzzled by his sudden question, and mulled it over a tad before replying. "I should think that at this point in our relationship, we are quite acquainted acquaintances and rather keen on becoming friends at a future point and are thus progressing towards that area through continued acquaintanceship."

The Hatter abandoned his theatrics for a moment to gaze at her wide-eyed, a thrill of excitement seeming to permeate the air around him.

"Oh, _no_," emphasized the Hare, a genuine panic tinting his voice, and this panic only served to alarm the poor girl who had last spoken.

"What? What's wrong?" she demanded, her gaze darting back and forth between the two friends. The Hatter only grinned, true joy written across all of his features.

"Now _that_," he began, "Is a _sentence_."

And, as they smiled widely at each other, it seemed that perhaps they weren't as Lyss suggested, but truly friends after all.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Lyss?" the Hatter asked.

She nearly cried of happiness, "I would love a-"

"We're out," piped up the Hare, "Last pot was drained half an hour ago."

"Even that strange smokey smelling one?" Lyss panicked, for at this point she would have gladly accepted a cup of the unusual liquid.

"Especially that one. People need it to stay awake," the Hare reasoned.

"Can't you just make some more?" begged Lyss.

"One does not simply _make more tea_." The Hatter finally spoke up again, chuckling as he did so.

"But you do all the time," Lyss yawned, the lateness of the hour finally taking its toll. "You always have tea. And it just comes from nowhere."

"Oh, but it does come from somewhere. All things have a place."

And with that philosophical statement, the Hatter stood and drowned in the sea of people yet again, waving his cane above his head like it was his snorkel.

There was a certain relaxation emanating from the crowd; the partygoers were finally being worn out. Lyss and the Hare stood next to each other but did not move from their corner-it was a decent place to observe people. Still lamenting the lack of tea, Lyss gazed forlornly at the tea table, counting the number of empty pots that were strewn haphazardly about the space. A young man and woman approached the table when she reached fifty, and Lyss nearly called out a warning to them, hoping to save them from the disappointment of no tea, when she noticed that they were not at the table for treats and drinks. They were there for public privacy. The man firmly held the woman's waist, and he lifted her in a graceful arch onto one of the mismatched chairs, her opulent white dress glowing in the moonlight.

Lyss stared on as the young girl, balancing carefully on the seat of the chair, turned to face the man and gave him a little curtsy. The man returned with a practiced and perfect bow. He had a face that suggested royalty-there was something in the style of his dark, shoulder-length hair and the calmness of his eyes-and he was quite clearly enamoured of the girl. Now that she was high above him, she carefully took her hands and cradled his head. Her thumbs massaged a slow trail from his eyebrows and swept over his temples, and she circled in that same slow rhythm. The man closed his eyes, looking perfectly content, and a few moments after he did so, the girl leaned forward, still cradling his head, and kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes jolted open briefly, and Lyss saw that curious pleasure of being wanted enough to prompt action alight in his eyes before they slid close again and his hands returned to her waist.

It was then that she looked away. Such love was too private for others to see.

Someone called out that it was time for the last dance, and Lyss felt a tug on her skirts. Looking down, she saw that the Hare had politely offered himself up as a dance partner, and grinning, Lyss took him up on his proposition. They walked to the edges of the other dancing couples, gathering in the space between the Hare's house and his tea table, and began a performance of the most farcical waltz they could fathom. Lyss swept the Hare up and off the floor multiple times, and he in turn spent a lot of time hopping up and down. Their height difference only served as a brilliant comedic device, and the pair took advantage of it as much as they could. A few strange looks were thrown their way, but they either did not notice or did not care, and they only stopped when the music did.

The end of the song also brought with it the end of the party, and a rather loud declaration by the Hatter, who, within five seconds of the song's finish, bellowed, "EVERYBODY OUT. GOODNIGHT."

Those who straggled were given disapproving looks, and with that, the strange party came to an end.

"Not bad, my friend. Not bad," the Hare told the Hatter as the last guest exited through the gate.

"A very successful mingle, I'd say," he responded, and then he made his way over to the tea table and plopped himself down in one of the chairs. He squished his cheek into his hand as he reached for a teapot and attempted to pour himself a cup. Disappointment was high when no tea came out, despite his best efforts to loose it from the container.

Lyss meandered over to him, suddenly aware of her exhaustion, and she sat down next to him. "There's no tea left, remember?"

He gave a melancholy sigh, "I was hoping that maybe Hare was wrong."

"He's not, I'm afraid. We're entirely dry. No chance of tea at all right now," she said, trying to be of some comfort. The Hatter just removed his obnoxiously green hat and set it to the side, then leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

Lyss whispered, "Are you okay?" He glanced up and stretched his arms forward, fidgeting with his fingers, running them like rabbits.

"Sometimes I just worry that one day all of the strings inside me will break," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

She leaned her head to the left, pondering him closely, "That's a horribly sad metaphor."

"How so?"

"Because it makes you irreparably broken."

He crossed his arms, and then unwound them, "Well, maybe I am."

"And maybe you're not."

More fidgeting. Lyss wondered if he was trying to light his fingertips on fire with his repeated motions, "And how would you chose to phrase it, then?"

Lyss shrugged, "I've done a lot of reading, and I've frankly never found a very good metaphor for existence."

"Well, isn't that a small comfort." Sarcasm leaked through his words; Lyss was sure that he hadn't thought them over very well, as he only seemed intensely focused on his gloves. The fingers still moved and squirmed, and finally Lyss took her hands and placed them firmly on his. The movement stopped, the fingers froze, and the Hatter finally looked up at her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She gave him a soft smile, "No need to apologize." He only stared at her. "You just can't help it, is the thing." The Hatter's eyes widened a bit, and he nodded in agreement with her.

"I'll walk you home," he said, and so they said goodnight to the Hare, and became the very last guests to leave the Most Wild and Raucous Party.

It was only after they left that Lyss realized she still hadn't had any tea at all that day.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: And the plot thickens! Speculate, enjoy, and happy reading!_

* * *

><p>"You have to die a few times before you can really live."<br>-Charles Bukowski

"That very night in Max's room a forest grew and grew-and grew until his ceiling hung with vines and the walls became the world all around."  
>-Maurice Sendak, <em>Where the Wild Things Are<em>

* * *

><p>The Thought had formed some time ago in the back of her mind. She dismissed it immediately-she shouldn't, should not at all!<p>

But it lingered.

And gradually nibbled away a bit at the uncertainties. She wasn't sure where she was, she wasn't sure why she was feeling this way, and she wasn't sure how she had come to him.

She didn't like uncertainty. She had never been one to wander down Fate's path aimlessly, like a toy puppet, being mindlessly controlled by an unseen force. And this was the appeal of The Thought. It took Fate's strings and cut them away. It gave her the power to run where she may and do what she wanted.

Away from the place, away from the feelings, away from him.

All she needed was a little time and a fickle insider.

* * *

><p>That morning, Lyss was abruptly interrupted from her breakfast by a persistent knocking on her door. When she opened it, she was surprised to see the Hatter there, and she was even more surprised when he handed her a scone and a cup of tea and took her elbow in his, leading her down a path to the right of her house. There was no explanation, though Lyss was accustomed to that when it came to her friend, and so she ate and drank in silence, letting him lead her where he wished.<p>

The path they had been walking along abruptly divided into two paths: one that appeared to be no different from the path they walked now, and another that was lined with tall cypress trees before giving way to a large, cleared space filled with dark-clad figures. It was down this strange new path that the Hatter walked, with Lyss following close behind and fumbling with her skirts, for as they walked further down this path, her muted orange skirts began to slowly stain themselves black. The path itself did not appear to be the cause and there was no trace of coal anywhere in the air. The black spread more as if it were a drop of food dye that had fallen into a cup of water; it was inky and web-like, an invisible spider that was rapidly creating its black home on her garments. She opened her mouth in surprise, ready to point out this strange occurrence to her companion, when she noticed that his clothes had done the same thing hers had, though the new color was not quite strong enough to hide the vibrancy underneath. His coat was still noticeably orange, and his gloves retained their very white glow, but his trousers and vest were clearly darkened, just passable for black to a wandering eye. Up close, she could see that the trousers were still green and the vest still blue, but when she saw the casual glances of others gathered in this strange area, she noticed that they didn't acknowledge his rather off color palette.

As far as they could tell, he was dressed in a respective black, just like Lyss and the rest of them. Looking around, the only color that she saw was on the lapels of the men's coats and the wrists of the ladies; all appeared to be sporting bright orange and yellow marigolds. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the ladies were gently patting their companions shoulders or were dramatically holding their marigold-sporting wrists up to their faces so as to enhance the visual of their grief.

"What is happening?" she quietly asked, for she felt as though speaking too loudly would result in glaring looks and increased sobs. The Hatter turned to look at her, and noticed for the first time her change in clothing color. He gave her a calculating look before turning on his heels and heading for a small table, with a small wave of his hand, urging her to follow him.

Upon reaching this table, Lyss could see the Hare standing just behind it, a marigold in his jacket as well, his leporine eyes welled with tears. He brightened considerably when he saw the two of them arriving, and greeted them with a faint smile.

"So good of you both to come," was all he said.

"Wouldn't miss it," replied the Hatter. "Have you any pipes remaining?"

"I'm afraid not," said the Hare with a shake of his head, "We ran out a while ago. So many people arrived this year."

"Such a shame. Although..." he trailed off, and removed his hat from his head and rummaged through it. "A-HA!" he declared, pulling out a pipe and promptly placing it in his mouth.

"What are you smoking?" asked Lyss, for she had never pegged the man, even with all of his eccentricities, to live by the pipe.

"Tea leaves," was his casual reply before he turned back to the Hare, "Did you open the windows?"

"Naturally. Though it was two hours ago. Someone should have closed them by now," and at this statement, Lyss found herself even more horribly confused than before.

"Are you sure it was two hours?" asked the Hatter.

"I believe it was. We stopped all the clocks though, so the timing might be a bit off," said the Hare, looking toward a small building at the edge of the clearing. It looked to Lyss a bit like a wedding gazebo might, with all of the lawn chairs strewn about in the vast field, and the beautiful, pink, bell shaped flowers planted in front.

"What's in that building?" she questioned, to no one in particular.

"Mirrors are all covered, too," was all she heard as a reply.

"Lovely. Shall we go then, Lyss?" asked the Hatter, who turned suddenly towards her.

"What? Where?" she asked, for she was growing rather weary of being ignored by her friends.

"Why, by the body, of course," the Hatter declared nonchalantly as he offered her his arm.

"Body? What body?" No one had said anything about a body! And here she thought the pavilion would have made a fine place for matrimony.

"Don't forget your flowers! We ran out of marigolds, but we have some nice delphiniums if you want them," called the Hare, who had rushed after them with the flowers in hand.

"Ah, yes! Thank you, dear friend. Will we see you at tea later?" the Hatter said as he accepted his flower and clumsily attempted to pin it to his lapel before looking at Lyss with a silent, begging look on his face. She took the flower from him and pinned it properly, vaguely reminded of her high school prom. He returned the favor and slipped her flower onto her wrist, careful to be gentle with such a delicate feature so as not to crush the petals.

"Afraid not. I'll be here until midnight," was all the Hare said before leaving them to return to his small table.

"What a shame," murmured the Hatter to Lyss softly. "It will just be the two of us, then."

He continued to lead her down to the building, passing many Wonderlanders who were crying and sobbing, some of them even throwing themselves onto the ground in fits of grief, wailing and making incoherent interjections, all directed towards the single architectural structure. She felt a sense of dread as they neared it; she was positively terrified of who they might find inside. Lyss felt her heartbeat speed up with each careful step, and involuntarily clutched the Hatter's arm a bit tighter. He noticed, and turned his head to smile at her, though it did not reach his eyes. She saw, for the first time, that he was genuinely sad, and she wondered at how he could possibly know what they were about to see and she didn't. They spent a good deal of time together; she knew for a fact that no unusual telegrams had arrived lately and that no one had stopped by with any bad news.

Finally, at long last, they reached the building. It was plain, entirely nondescript, expect for that it was located in an otherwise wide-open field. The Hatter opened the door and gently guided her inside, where she saw a large casket set up in the middle of the single room. A lady with lace gloves and a fan in her hand was sitting in a rocking chair off to the side, keeping the dead company. Lyss saw the Hatter glance around the room; indeed, the windows had been closed properly, and the mirrors were entirely covered. There was a large clock mounted on the back wall, but it made no ticking sound, for it had stopped at exactly nine. The Hatter removed his hat and walked up to the casket, presumably to view the body. She only hoped that he would not make a large keening display; that way, they could leave sooner and be on their merry way.

Something about this was not right at all. The woman in the rocking chair kept glancing over at Lyss, as if she was suspicious of her, or wary, or maybe just surprised. They locked gazes for several long moments, and were interrupted by the Hatter.

"Don't you want to see her? I would imagine you would be most interested in doing so." He was still looking at the figure in the casket. Lyss turned away from the woman and approached the thick wood container, and what she saw made her scream in utmost surprise and terror.

Though the mirrors were covered, and she could thusly not be entirely too sure, Lyss was quite certain that she was gazing upon herself, lying peacefully on a cushioned white pillow, eyes closed, and clutching flowers so dark purple they were almost black in the candlelight. She quickly backed away from the body, covering her eyes and breathing heavily. The Hatter only watched her, and after some time, extended his hand to her. She stared at the gloved fingers for a good long while, peeking at them between her own, and decided to let her trust for him prevail as she accepted the hand and let him lead her back to the horrible creature.

"Is that me?" she asked, her words coming out thin and wispy. Her throat felt closed up and dried, and speaking around this hinderance was difficult.

"Yes," was all he told her, as he resumed his gazing on the still woman.

"She looks a bit older than I am," she observed. The body had much thinner hair, though it was still very much blonde, and there were puckering lines around her mouth, like she had spent much of her life kissing people.

"She was. I believe she was twenty three when she died," said the Hatter. He turned to the strange, fan-toting woman, "What did you use to wash it?"

"An aloe solution," she croaked out, her body position never moving, her eyes not even bothering to look at the Hatter's.

"Good, good."

They remained staring at the body, the Hatter giving little, soft sighs every now and then.

"What are those flowers she's holding?" asked Lyss.

"Black poppies. They were Alice's favorite," he replied automatically.

"They're very beautiful," said Lyss, for it was all she could really think to say. The Hatter only glanced at her briefly before bending down into the coffin and removing one of the flowers from the dead woman's clutches and handing it to Lyss. Oddly enough, she found the gesture sweet, in a vaguely disturbing way, and accepted the flower willingly. With one last, lingering look on the Alice, the Hatter again offered his arm and led Lyss away from herself. They solemnly walked the path that led to the Hare's garden so that they could partake in some tea, their clothes slowly returning to their former color as they walked further away from the strange funeral. They were both lost in their mussing, one wondering how the girl next to him could not see what he had been telling her all along; the other wondering if perhaps the man next to her possessed some reason tucked underneath all of this madness.

* * *

><p>Some hours later, Lyss could practically feel the wood wear beneath her feet as she paced back and forth in her bedroom, her thoughts racing, her breath coming in short pants. It was one thing to be told that she was not an original: that she was a pattern, a reoccurrence, a part of a perpetual cycle that was somehow breaking. It was another thing entirely to look down upon the body of a her that had come and gone. She could reasonably believe in the insanity without seeing, certainly, but seeing the insanity as a reality made everything all the more tangible. There was no longer a little voice in her head that could assure her of the absurdness of it all; that voice had gone skipping away the moment she gazed upon the blonde girl in the coffin.<p>

And it made her task all the more urgent. If she was who everyone was claiming she was, then it was truly up to her to set things right-if she could ever figure out what was truly wrong-to save her newfound home.

Home.

She stopped pacing at this thought, and realized just how right the word felt. It settled into her mind, blanketed her up in its cozy comfort, and brought her a soothing calmness. Lyss took a deep, long breath, relishing how clean and clear the air seemed to be.

And then she marched herself outside into the spring day to search of an ornery feline.

Lyss began her wander through the Tulgey Wood by going in the opposite direction of the Hare's house, figuring that the cat seemed to dislike interacting with the duo and would be as far away from the ruckus as possible. She tramped deeper and deeper between the trees, and as she wandered, the light of the afternoon faded darker and darker. Soon, she was bathed in the midnight blue of her surroundings, with no natural light bleeding in through the leaves. It was impossible to say if the sun had just set or if the wood was so thick that no amount of light would ever reach the ground.

Just as she was about to turn back out of fear of losing her way in the depths of the forest, a sort of sign illuminated in a tree in front of her. It was a sloppily cut arrow, painted a grassy green, and it pointed her forwards, urging her on with the words "tHIs WaY" hastily written on the side. Assured, Lyss continued on, until she came across another sign, this one a cheery pink, that said "GO bacK". Frowning, she rotated herself slowly around, and looking up, she saw that the entire forest was covered in these random, haphazard arrows. The trees were aglow in orange and blue and more green and more pink. Lyss spun herself around and around, making the colors blur together. It was beautiful and terrifying.

Lyss felt her stomach flutter nervously as she stopped spinning and realized that she was lost.

Her breath was coming in short gasps, "Hello?" She hadn't any hope of someone hearing her, but she thought that calling out might do a bit of good.

"Lost, are we?" a silky voice spoke from behind her. She whirled around, eyes adjusting to the shadows around the brightly lit signs.

"Chesh, is that you?" She tightened her hands into fists. "Show yourself, I've no time for your silly little games."

Ever so slowly, he made himself appear in the limbs of the nearest tree. "You've spoiled all my fun," he said with a pout.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the ground, entirely silent except for the _patpatpat_ of her boot. Chesh remained in his perch, staring down at her with wide cat eyes that seemed to glow with the signs that illuminated sections of the wood. He leaned back lazily and gave a long, exaggerated sigh.

"Well, if you've nothing to say to me..." He trailed off, and began to slowly fade from Lyss' sight, one pink stripe followed by a purple one.

"Wait! I-I just don't know where to begin, is all." The cat stopped his disappearing act and peered down at her, and Lyss swore that if he had been human, he would have raised an eyebrow at her.

"Begin at the beginning." He shook his head, and for once, his mouth was turned down at the corners. "Sometimes you disappoint me, dear Alice."

"I'm not Alice, I'm-" Lyss stopped suddenly, unsure of how she meant that sentence to finish.

"Oh my. How dreadfully awkward. Even _you_ don't know all that you are." The cat tsked at her. "You remain a disappointment."

A thought occurred to the young woman, "I've been a disappointment to you for quite a long time, haven't I?"

The cat regarded her, his expression unreadable, until his face cracked into the wide grin he was known for. "Now you're getting somewhere."

Lyss couldn't help but grin back up at him, "And how exactly have I disappointed you, Chesh?"

His grin faltered then, and this only made Lyss' grow stronger. "You bring about change," he whispered quietly, "Change that I have no control over. Change with damning consequences." Chesh slowly began to disappear again, and this time Lyss knew better than to try to stop him. "If I might give you a piece of advice, I'd recommend you stop thinking yourself as unimportant and begin to see just what sorts of impacts you've had on Wonderland."

His words were faint as the last furry stripe vanished from view, and the crescent of his grin was the last to fade completely away; Lyss was alone yet again. She set on tramping through the wood, silently cursing that she hadn't asked the enigmatic cat for directions, distracted by her thoughts running wild through her mind.

Which is possibly why she was so surprised to look up and find herself standing at the edges of a black, wrought iron gate protecting a bright lemon-colored house. She turned to glance behind herself, and to verify that indeed the wood was still somewhere behind her. Still, she was curious as to why, of all places, she should wander here. There was something different about this place-certainly, not in a bad way-and Lyss could feel her heartbeat quicken with excitement as she carefully opened the gate. She walked silently up to the front door, and then hesitated. It was rather late already; the sun had set, and she would have hated to disturb anyone who might be sleeping, especially if that thing called a bandersnatch or a jabberwocky that she had read so much about lived here.

She had turned around and was halfway to the gate when she heard the door open and a familiar voice called out.

"Lyss? What are you doing here?"

She pivoted on her heel, and saw the Hatter sans coat and hat standing before her. Surprised, she blurted out, "What are _you_ doing here?"

The Hatter gave her a confused look, "I _live_ here."

Lyss looked up at the bright yellow house, the endless stories stacking up on top of each other, and decided that this was exactly the sort of place she'd pictured him living.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," she said.

The Hatter smiled at her and stood aside, holding the door open. "Would you like to come in?"

Lyss nodded enthusiastically, and made her way into the foyer. There were shelves and shelves of teacups and teapots lining the walls, each a different color and design. Classic white teapots were placed next to teapots shaped like birds and clouds, and the teacups were just as outlandish. Just beyond the foyer was a circular room with a winding staircase, leading to a house of mystery.

"Come with me," he said after removing her coat. "I'll give you the grand tour."

He led her through the most fantastic rooms she had ever seen. Porcelain was displayed everywhere; the bathroom held an oversized claw-footed bathtub and had a ceiling that shifted colors to reflect the time of day. Currently, it was inlaid with bits of sparkling stars, and Lyss thought she saw a shooting star whiz past. He led her through a room covered entirely in vines blooming with foreign flowers, and he let her wander through a small personal library. They walked into rooms with unknown sources of music softly playing, and still others contained nature scenes so realistic that Lyss wondered if they had made their way outside.

However, it was the topmost floor that was her favorite.

It consisted of an endlessly long, curved hallway, with walls painted so deeply blue that they became black. Little bright patches of light illuminated the otherwise dark passageway, and larger clusters of the lights indicated doors. The roundness of the hall made it impossible to pinpoint where exactly she'd began, and for a while, she simply walked in a continuous circle of darkness. As with all of the other rooms in his house, this was like stepping into an entirely new world, and she was almost satisfied with just wandering the dim hallway.

However, her curiosity got the better of her, and, with the Hatter at her side for encouragement, she opened her first door.

What she saw, she should have expected, given the decorative style of the hallway, and yet she still gasped in surprise when she entered the room and found herself floating next to a section of the Milky Way Galaxy. The room made absolutely no dimensional sense-from the outside, the space should have only been a few square feet, but she was most definitely drifting in a room so large that its boundaries disappeared. In truth, she wasn't sure if she would have been able to find the door again, were it not for the Hatter's wise decision to stay behind, holding the door open. Looking down, she could see no floor, and looking up, there was no ceiling. There was only the too-close presence of the otherworldly phenomenon, and Lyss was not entirely certain that it was merely a well-executed illusion. It was all too real to be fake, and yet, she knew she was still breathing oxygen, and every now and then she thought she felt her feet brush a floor.

The Hatter tossed a length of rope at her, and Lyss took it, ready to be pulled back. The rope was thin and frail, but it did its job, and she felt like an anchor being hauled back into a ship as she was slowly returned to the dim hallway. Gloved hands steadied her as she wobbled slightly, readjusting to normal gravitational patterns, and she looked wide-eyed at the hatted young man.

"Is _every room_ like that?"

The Hatter only flashed her a wicked grin and grabbed her hand, scampering away to his favorite rooms.

Before entering the next one, he fastened the both of them to the length of rope, and then secured it to the door handle.

"This way, we can both go in," was his reasoning, and Lyss found it sound.

They wandered and floated through rooms filled with constellations-they fought alongside Orion and played with the ladies Ursa. Doors opened to bright solitary stars, and once, they were almost swept away in the blinding tail of a comet.

Lyss' favorite room was that which contained the constellation Libra.

"It's absolutely beautiful," she said upon opening the door. The Hatter loosened some of the rope between them, and then gave a gentle push in the direction of one side of the scales.

"You float by that scale, and I'll float by this one. We'll balance each other out," he said, and then made a sort of swimming motion to get to his side.

Lyss floated contently on her side for some time. "This reminds me of a picture I saw on a card once."

"Like a playing card?"

"Sort of. You don't use them to play games, though."

"That sounds completely pointless."

"They aren't, though. And, anyway, this card, it had a picture of two people on it, and they were separated by something." Lyss looked over at the Hatter, and saw that she held his full attention, "I can't remember what it was, though. But if you find it, it's supposed to mean that some sort of important decision is to happen."

"That," the Hatter began, "sounds about as plausible as expecting to become lucky after locating a four-leafed clover."

Lyss gave him a wry smile and tugged softly on the rope between them. "It's more accurate than it sounds." The Hatter floated gently towards her, and then gave a tug on the rope himself, and then they both began tugging on the rope until they were floating face to face, right in the center of Libra.

"There," Lyss said. "Perfectly balanced."

They stayed drifting amongst the stars, with only the bundle of rope between them.

After they finally closed the door on Libra, they continued wandering through the hall, passing some doors and peeking into others. Just around the curve was a strange, glowing red light. When they reached the light, Lyss could see that the door was barred with several wooden planks, and the light pulsed slightly, in perfect time with a heartbeat.

"What's in this one?" Lyss asked, curious as to why such spectacular rooms would be boarded up.

"Oh, you don't want to go in there," he said, taking her elbow and leading her away, "Black hole."

"_Oh_."

"Yes, I discovered it accidentally one day. It's a miracle I got out alive." He dramatically flourished his hands, and Lyss laughed, raising a hand to her lips to cover her smile.

"Well, aren't you just absolutely brave," she teased, and the Hatter blushed.

Finally, after a bit of persuasion, Lyss and the Hatter left the strange top floor and headed for comparably normal ones. They wandered through a strange hallway of oddly shaped mirrors on the third floor, and Lyss also managed to find a door that seemed to open up to dozens of more doors, though the Hatter swiftly steered her away from that room, claiming that there wasn't anything interesting in it. His glove was oddly warm against her arm, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was being entirely truthful.

He led her to his workroom, a space covered entirely in fabrics and ribbons and all sorts of accessories. Wooden heads were lined up along a table against one wall, each wearing a hat more intricate and outlandish than the last. Bundles of peacock feathers lay next to curlicued ribbon and piles of felt. Deep velvet reds and purples were draped carelessly along one wall, and flimsy patterned silks lined another. Buttons and oversized flowers littered the floor, and in the very center was his table-where all of these magnificent pieces came together. Scissors and needles and wooden forms were scattered about it, and Lyss felt that she was looking at the inside of his brain as her eyes gazed about the room.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, and then he sat at his table and began working. Lyss watched him silently for a while, mesmerized by the carefulness of his hands and the intensity of his focus. When it was apparent that he no longer was aware she was there, she quietly slipped out of the room to wander the house by herself.

She soon came across an open room, filled with a soft light, thanks to two huge glass doors. Above the doors was a portrait of a crying lady. The portrait of the weeping woman took up the entire space between the door frame and the ceiling. Her wrist was lain dramatically across her forehead, her eyes closed. Tiny, sparkling teardrops were scattered like miniature constellations on her cheeks, and though the woman was still, it was almost impossible to not imagine her ragged breaths, her sobs, and the splish of her tears falling to the ground. Lyss stared up at her, wondering why her friend would chose such a depressing piece of art to hang in his house. She looked out the clear glass double doors just below the painting, and was surprised to see a view of the lake she had recently visited. The soft pastels of sunrise reflected in the water, the pinks and oranges and yellows striping across the calm surface. Lyss tiptoed over to the doors and silently opened them, stepping out onto a small balcony encased in the same wrought iron design as the fence. She casually leaned against the rail, watching the sun steadily make itself known to the world.

"There you are," a voice behind her spoke, and Lyss jumped, startled out of her daydream. "I thought you might have gotten lost." The Hatter joined her at the railing, and the pair watched as the sun finally floated entirely free in the sky.

Lyss thought more on the painting of the woman. She hung so perfectly, giving off an impression that she was providing the salt water for the lake below her.

Lyss' head shot up with a gasp. The Hatter immediately looked over at her, eyes wide and brow furrowed, like he couldn't decide if he should be shocked or concerned or both.

"Hatter...the lake, I..." Lyss pointed to the lake, and then to her own eyes, silently asking him if she was correct in her assumption. He nodded a confirmation, and Lyss couldn't tell if he was glad she had figured out a part of the mystery.

"Do you know if I would be able to...remember any of it?" she asked, her voice wavering.

The Hatter shrugged, "You never have before." Lyss turned her head to look at the man, and saw that he was wearing an oddly blank expression. It was unsettling; she had gotten used to his emotions being close to the surface.

"But I might feel a sense of overwhelming déjà vu?"

"That's also never happened before," he whispered. "Except for the day I took you there." He indicated to the calm lake in front of them.

They stayed quiet for some time, interrupted only by the rustle of fabric atop restless limbs. Lyss gulped, and then softly spoke.

"I must have cried a great many tears to produce a lake of such considerable size."

The Hatter's mouth quirked up into a tiny grin, "Dodo tells me it was quite the impressive spectacle. I, unfortunately, was occupied with other things, and as such did not get to see the lady cry a lake."

"What could have possibly kept you so busy as to miss such a momentous event?" Lyss teased, leaning in and nudging him just slightly with her elbow.

He laughed softly, "Tea time, I suppose."

Lyss tilted her head to the side, "You missed the most spectacular expulsion of saline in the history of the world because you wanted to have tea?"

"I didn't _want_ to have tea," he said, and he rubbed his hands together. "I _had_ to have it."

"It's the same thing, with you."

The Hatter let out a short laugh, and then leaned in conspiratorially, "Tell that to the Queen."

Lyss smiled, and returned her attention to the Pool of Tears.

This high up, Lyss could see something in the water that piqued her curiosity. A small, almost unnoticeable whirlpool was twirling itself in the dead center of the lake.

She decided not to ask the Hatter about it, and stored the information away for another day.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Finally, the chapter I've been waiting to write for so long now! This one's a game changer_, _and I'm excited to publish it. Enjoy, and do let me know what you thought! Thank you, and happy reading._

* * *

><p>"Lay me down<p>

Let the only sound

Be the overflow

Pockets full of stones"

-Florence + The Machine, _What the Water Gave Me_

* * *

><p>There was something about her, when they were like this. The way she could be, her being: she was, is, will forevermore be. A soft curled hand spinning circles like straw to splendor on his chest. A strand of hair, tickling its way into everywhere. A smooth curved back, the most perfect back in the world, and its clever sway, its widening and narrowing and widening again. Most appealing. The slope of her nose, the circle of her mouth, the salmon pink of her cheeks. The slight crinkles near her sleeping eyes, the sound of breathing escaping her puffed cheeks. Silent sighs and supple secrets, suppose they were about him? Suppose she should like him very much? Suppose this were mad? Was he mad? What was madness, after all, but a word of being: he was, is, will forevermore be. In being there was comfort; in the meantime, there was she, and that was better in the end. Sometimes those secret places scared and scarred-sometimes, with she, there was air, and he needed air, or so he'd supposed and speculated from time to time; he was good at speculation, he supposed, maybe too good; perhaps it was a sign of too much space and too many seconds to sit through. Solo, single, solitude, separation, seclusion, segregation, sequester-sometimes he liked to play this game. Sanity? Oh no, not with that bunch. Monophobia, if it began differently. A stupid saint, a shameless sinner: a secret savior, a serving sidekick. He liked strawberries and scones and shared secrets and sssssssssssshhhhh.<p>

Her finger stops his lips. Was he speaking, he's not sure; too many things might have been said and they shouldn't have been. Been. Being: was, is, will forevermore be. He focuses back on her. Elegant curves, easy smiles, exhausted face, embodying everything, an escape from vast something. Even without effort. But that was okay. He rests his cheek on the top of her head and holds her closer; maybe he'll keep her forever, how nice that would be: was, is, will forevermore be.

* * *

><p>Lyss was walking alone in town, two packages-one containing a newly purchased dress, and the other containing a repaired weapon of hers-swinging gently back and forth with her every stride. The day was considerably warmer than usual, a sure sign that the season was shifting into summer, and so she decided to take a repose at a small cafe just near the center of the hub, overlooking a rather large statue of the Queen. Lyss sighed and purposefully sat herself facing away from the sculpture, and ordered an iced mint tea. The wait for her drink was nearly unbearable in the heat of the sun, and she found herself wishing that she'd dressed a bit lighter.<p>

She was just about to attempt to subtly fan herself with a menu when she heard both a dim drumming and the sound of many marching feet. Lyss dropped the menu and craned her head around, trying to see from where the sounds were coming. It seemed to originate from everywhere, and Lyss noticed that several other patrons of the cafe were exchanging worried and concerned looks. The waiter who had taken her order stepped out of the small indoor space, her drink balanced carefully in his hand, but when he heard the drums, he froze, and immediately reversed directions and went back inside.

Several customers stood up and crowded around the outside of the cafe, throwing shifty glances at the statue as they did. Confused, Lyss stood and joined them, and she felt herself grow anxious as she waited for the source of the sound to make itself known.

Finally, the courtyard flooded from all four sides with an endless stream of soldiers, each wearing a black or red suit of armor with either a large heart, spade, diamond, or club embossed on the front. They filled the alleyways, their numbers seeming to never end, and the frontmost soldiers cleared a space around the statue and stood guard facing it, alternating between black and red uniforms, preventing any of the citizens from approaching it.

The Queen then approached the statue, a man with a heavy, wicked blade at her side, the Flowers dutifully following her. The strange group seemed to glide as they made their way through the crowd of soldiers, and Lyss found herself transfixed by them-whether it was out of admiration or terror, she was unsure. Lyss was roughly shoved by the group of frantic citizens, and she clung tightly to her packages. Several people were blocking her view of what was going on, but a few shifts of her position allowed her to generally see what was happening.

The Queen had gathered her strange group in the front of the statue, and seemed to be making some sort of announcement. The drone of agitated citizens prevented her from hearing anything clearly, but Lyss could see a certain air of self-satisfaction on the faces of the courtesans. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and it grew more agitated; people shifted around and a few even tried to find a way to leave. The guards turned around and faced the crowd, and all activity immediately stopped.

"FURY MOUSE."

The voice of the Queen rang over the crowd, and a wailing, earsplitting cry followed. It took Lyss a moment to realize that the name that had been called belonged to her waiter, and before she knew what was happening, two guards had stepped into the crowd and were dragging the man to the statue platform. They forcibly made him kneel on the ground, and he screamed all the while, horrible things like "I didn't do it!" and "They made me!", but no one payed him any mind, and several of the ladies on that platform with him were cheerfully smiling, fanning themselves pleasantly, and then the man in black lifted his sword and brought it down softly on the nape of the man's neck, measuring his next move carefully, and Lyss knew what would happening, but she could not look away, and so she stared on as the man lifted the sword once more and this time brought it down hard, slicing the flesh open, and the man gave a strangled scream, and then he began bleeding, but he was not yet dead, and so he endured another blow, and another, and another, and then finally the Queen became fed up and snatched the weapon from the man in black and delivered the final blow that removed his head from his body, his blood blending in to the color of her gown.

No one in the crowd said anything as the courtesans left and the soldiers marched away, leaving the body of the man behind to stain the foot of the statue red, his lifeless head frozen in an expression of terror as it rolled gently from side to side.

* * *

><p>"And she-she just took it from him and she did it herself. Killed him in cold blood. It was horrible. Hare, how can she just do something like that?"<p>

"Because that is the kind of ruler she's become. Sentence first and verdict after." He paused to stir his tea. "It wasn't always like this, though. Only started happening about thirty years ago, around the time Alice died. Used to be that no one lost their head, even if the Queen threatened it." This made Lyss all the more confused as to the wake of the dead girl, but she supposed that they continued to mourn her open casket either because it was still a touchy subject or because it was Wonderland, and that was how things worked.

"Do you know how she died?" Lyss ventured to ask.

The Hare scratched behind his ears, "You know, I don't think Hatter's ever told me. And I never thought to ask."

"Wait," Lyss said, "Do you mean to suggest that the Hatter was there?"

The Hare merely nodded and looked away. Lyss suspected that if he'd been covered in only flesh and his fur was nonexistent, he would have had a profuse blush blooming on his face.

Finally, the Hare softly spoke, "I find it best to not bring the subject up, and I've never asked him about it."

"Is that what made him..." Lyss made a vague circling sort of gesture about her head.

"Oh, no, he was mad far before that." The Hare took a sip of his tea, "It certainly hasn't helped any, though."

Lyss nodded and swirled her tea around, the strange, foreign liquid no longer volcanic in its temperature. Gingerly, she took a cautionary sip, found herself content with the warmth, and eagerly had some more, lest she should ever again be in a situation in which she could not get her tea. It was an unusual beverage, rather phantasmagoric, a very deep crimson red that shimmered into a golden yellow, which in turn shifted to an aquamarine blue. The beverage never stayed one color for long, though the color seemed to have no correlation to taste; it remained a consistent flavour.

"What is this?" she finally thought to ask the Hare.

Without even glancing at her, he replied, "I'm not sure. It's been in my cabinets for ages. How is it?"

Lyss blanched and nearly smacked the Hare on the back of his furry head. She'd already drunk half of the serving. "You're serving me something you've no idea the contents?"

The Hare shrugged, "Does it taste bad?"

Lyss stood abruptly, "I'm afraid I have to go now, Hare."

He gave her a knowing smile, "Don't hurry back, now." She turned and put her hands on her hips, overacting her admonishment.

"Are you saying I'm not welcome back?" she gently teased.

"Of course not, dear. Only that I suspect I won't be seeing you for a while."

* * *

><p>Lyss went home and changed into her new gown, a deep blue colour that matched her eyes. She went out for a brisk walk, perhaps to break in the fabric, and then night fell, and she'd somehow found herself at the Hatter's house again, and this time she'd been left alone to do some exploring. He was busy, distracted-Lyss suspected he might be more temperamental than usual tonight. And so she wandered around the house, ducking in and out of all the strange rooms, wondering how it was that such a house had come to be.<p>

Lyss came to the door that led to his library, and decided that she could easily spend a quiet evening in there. She tiptoed softly into the room, though this was unnecessary due to plush carpet that quieted her footfalls, and looked around. The bookcases reached to the ceiling of the room, and each wall was lined with them. Even the back of the door was filled with shelves of books, so that when the door was closed, it was difficult to discern how one might go about leaving. It was not an especially large room, but it was so overfull of information and books and _things_ that Lyss wondered if perhaps she had misjudged her opinion of the Hatter's brain resembling his workshop; certainly, the room she was now in felt more representative of that strange chaos.

There was a small table nestled in the corner where two of the shelves met, and an equally small and oddly patterned chair rested next to it. Lyss walked over and sat herself down, noticing that feathers and apples and strange squiggles resembling snakes appeared to be part of the chair's decor. She sighed and leaned toward the table, propping an elbow up on the weathered wood, and was met with something massive and solid and distinctly not table. Startled, she turned her head to the table and saw a battered, black-leather bound text sitting square in the middle of the table.

She was quite certain that it hadn't been there when she sat down.

Lyss did a quick scan of the shelves surrounding her, wondering if perhaps the book had fallen and she'd not noticed, but strangely, there was no peculiar dark shadow of a space that it could have come from; everything was in order.

It is therefore understandable that her curiosity soon piqued.

Tentatively, so as not to damage the book any further than it already had been, Lyss opened the cover and flipped to the first page. It was filled not with stately text, but rather with the inky black splotchings of a hand rushed, frantic to get everything down. The script was yet elegant, though smeared in many places to the point of illegibility, and Lyss bent over the book, hoping that proximity would improve readability.

The writing was vastly inconsistent. Chunks of English were interspersed with French and some other rune-like language Lyss had never seen. _And so you see, what you really must do is passes par la porte et peut-être, si on n'a pas des autres modes, passes-toi à travers les miroirs_ and then it devolved into a spiral pattern of runes. They circled the page like a textual labyrinth, undecipherable, though Lyss still traced them with her index finger, as if hoping she could just absorb their meaning via touch.

She flipped through a few pages, and stopped when she saw carefully detailed etchings. An outline of a right gloved hand filled the left side, and some sort of mechanical diagram was inscribed on the right. It was rectangular and entirely solid, and looking closer, Lyss realized that it was a door of some sorts. Certainly, it was no regular door, for it led to nowhere; a scrawl on the margin of the page clearly stated that it "only works when touching".

She turned the page. Another drawing, this one of a mirror with a gloved hand reaching through it. Bits of text: "take advantage of their knowledge", "can't build it all on my own", "et aussi pour cherchez la femme", "down with Time", "c'est le lama François"...

And then the creak of an opening door made her snap her head up, and she was met with a wild Hatter.

"Hatter, what is this?" and he crossed the small room and thudded the book shut.

"_Nothing_," he emphasized.

"But it's clearly something. It's-your gloves are in there. With drawings of doors and mirrors and-"

She fell silent.

The Hatter spoke next, "It's how things go from A to B. How I got everything to be-" and he gestured about the room at this, and then raised his hands to his head and tugged at his hair. Small streaks of red had tinged it, but as the seconds ticked on, the hair slowly faded and bleached itself entirely white.

"Be what?"

"_Nothing_."

He grabbed the book off the table and stormed out of the room, mumbling under his breath. Lyss followed him, racing to keep up with his long strides. Snatches of what he was saying floated back to her ears; she heard "have need of hiding it" several times, and "pas ma choix".

"I didn't know you spoke French," she said, still running to catch him, trying to keep some sort of semblance of normalcy in the dervish of panic.

The Hatter did not seem to hear her, or pretended not to. He stopped suddenly at an open window and peered outward, and Lyss halted just behind him. His focus was intense and scrutinizing, and though she looked also, she could not tell what it was that he was discerning. All she could see was the Pool of Tears and the surrounding forest, illuminated by the moonlight.

"Hatter, please, what is going on?"

"They're coming."

"Who?"

He turned to look at her, and to her relief he seemed to have gained some lucidity. In response, he only gestured towards the window, inviting her to get a closer look. She walked forward and put her hands on the sill, but all she noticed was the ever-present whirlpool spinning in the center of the lake and a pervading sense that, despite their relative closeness, she and the Hatter were miles away from each other.

An idea occurred to her, "Hatter, I need your gloves."

He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Do you think I'm Alice?" she asked, brow furrowed. Slowly, he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Then I have to do something."

They fell silent for a few moments, the Hatter looking confused, and Lyss trying to find the right words to explain herself.

"You told me to raise hell," she began, "And I think I may need to open a few pesky doors to achieve that. There's one at the bottom of the lake, isn't there?"

He nodded his head, paused, and turned to look out the window. "You're going to be gone for a very long time, won't you?" he whispered. Lyss bit at her bottom lip and glanced down.

"I'm not sure," and even though she said it honestly, it felt like a lie. She looked up at the Hatter, their eyes meeting, and was struck by the melancholic look on his face.

On a whim, Lyss moved herself closer to the Hatter and grabbed his orange lapels, stood on her tiptoes, and softly kissed him. He gave a small start of surprise, and then kissed her back, his hands gently cradling the back of her head.

There were many classic tropes their kiss could have taken. It may have been raining, the steady drizzle gradually increasing its strength and velocity as the kiss progressed. A sudden, life-altering realization may have occurred, or it may have happened in slow motion, dragging on for endless seconds until our protagonists managed to wrench themselves breathlessly apart. The room temperature may have risen, cheeks may have flushed, passion may have overburdened the couple. Battles may have ceased, and wars won; illnesses cured and hostility made mundane. Lyss might have been swept off her feet, threading her fingers through the Hatter's stark white hair, pressed flush against his body as she tried to be as close as possible one last time.

In truth, none of these happened, despite thorough documentation that such kisses have happened to multitudes of other couples in other long-winded sagas. They did not touch beyond Lyss' hands fisting his coat lapels, the Hatter's hands cradling her head, and, of course, their lips. There was no rain, and, though it may have seemed longer to the kissers, it only lasted the span of a few urgent seconds. Room temperature stayed constant, and when they separated, there was still the horrible knowledge of a war yet won. It was not the first time either person had kissed someone, and, though there was plenty of stomach fluttering, they were not swept up in a wave of their own fervency.

They parted silently-no words of poetic ardor were exchanged-and nothing visibly noticeable changed except for a blush that spread on Lyss' cheeks.

In short, their kiss was not everything. But still, it was something: reassuring and sorrowful and perfect in its own right.

"It seems I'll be expecting uninvited company soon."

Lyss tilted her head towards him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he said no more.

"Leave out the back door," he said calmly. "They won't see you that way."

"Hatter, what's-"

"Take the book with you. And my hat. Keep them safe." His voice was suddenly unexpectedly urgent, and he looked at her with pleading eyes. She consented, and he gave her the hat, dropping the book into it. To Lyss' surprise, it disappeared entirely, and the hat felt no heavier than it had moments ago.

He sighed, "If you must leave, I have to ask you to make it soon. Go."

"Hatter-"

"Please, Alice." His voice broke just slightly, and Lyss couldn't bring herself to correct him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He smiled. "I'll be back before you know it," she promised.

He turned her around and gently led her towards the door. "I only hope to be here when you return." He opened the door and she stepped through the threshold, letting the frame separate them. "If you hear any marching, _hide_."

And with that, he closed the door and Lyss was left alone. Armed with his gloves and his hat, she set off towards the lake, all too conscious of the increasing ache in her heart as she walked away.

* * *

><p>She reached the edge of the lake, and when she did, Lyss turned in a slow circle, determining which direction the Queen's palace was. It was easy enough to locate, as the turrets were visible over the line of trees, and Lyss faced it as head-on as she could manage. From the depths of her pockets, she took out that gun acquired so long ago, now repaired, and aimed it at the castle. Carefully, she cocked the weapon, checking first to ensure that it was loaded, and then she gently squeezed the trigger. The bullet burst from the barrel and blasted forward. Though she would never know if it hit its intended target, she felt a deep satisfaction at her actions.<p>

"Consider that a warning, Your Majesty," and she tucked the gun into the Hatter's hat for safekeeping, and as with the book, it simply fell into the unknown. Empowered, she turned back to the lake, immediately filled with a rush of dread at what she knew she had to do. Lyss stared at the water, watching the subtle ebb and flow as it softly made its way to the center of the lake. The very edge of the waterline caressed her boot, staining them a dark brown.

She stood on her tiptoes; she could see the whirlpool.

She was certain that it was there she'd find a door.

Carefully, she slipped the Hatter's pristine white gloves onto her own hands and placed his hat on her own head, and knelt down, leveling herself with the water. She dug about in the sandy shore for a few moments, searching for stones. When she had collected enough, she began placing them wherever she found space on her body: pebbles shoved into her boots, several put on the Hatter's hat so she wouldn't have to worry about holding on to it, others crammed into the small pockets of her skirts and in the soft fabric of her sleeves.

The way she saw it, this was the only way she'd make it to the bottom of the lake. From the surface, there was no way to tell how deep it might be, and weighing herself down was her only option.

She stood and faced the water, letting out a shaky breath as she did so. Her hands were trembling, and she felt absolutely terrified. She could die. She could literally drown in a pool of her own tears.

One chance.

Deep breath.

She slowly walked into the water, letting it envelope her in its mystery. It reached her ankles, and then her knees, and eventually her waist.

It was freezing cold. Lyss began shivering, though she couldn't tell if it was from the water temperature or from her own fear.

But she kept walking forward.

As the water reached her neck, she took several long, deep breaths, hoping to over-oxygenate her blood, trying to give herself as many seconds as she could get. She didn't feel particularly ready to go forward, but with one last breath, she ducked her head under the slight waves of the lake, and rushed forward as quickly as she could. Her boots kicked up the sandy bottom, and she felt a strange sensation of both lightness and heaviness as she swam forward, for once grateful to her father for insisting that she do all those sports. It was like running, but more elegant and graceful, slower.

She soon felt her loss of breath.

_Don't breathe in. Don't breathe don't breathe don't breathe don't breathe. _She repeated this mantra over and over in her head, willing herself to push just that bit farther, though how far, she couldn't tell. It was dark, and she thought that maybe she could see the bottom of the swirling water, but she couldn't be sure. She just moved forward, pushing and pushing. Her lungs began aching, a slow burn that began at the bottom of her ribs and pushed itself into her throat, begging her to breathe. Black spots appeared at the edges of her vision, and blinking wouldn't make them go away. Her head felt like it was floating off of her body, and she found herself wondering if she could make it back to the surface-if she could just go and take that breath and then sink down again and try one more time.

Even as she thought it, she knew she couldn't do it. She was too weighed down; she had to keep going. Even if she couldn't see. Even if she was on fire at the bottom of the lake.

She shook her head, trying to clear it, and then her body betrayed her and inhaled, sucking in salt water without caring that it would be of no service. Her vision cleared just for a moment, and she swore she thought she saw something thick and dark and wooden resting a few feet in front of her, but she couldn't tell, and her lungs were watery fire, and everything went black again, and her head did not feel like a head, and she was sinking and she felt her body give up as the weight of the rocks pulled her down to the sandy floor of the lake.

She would have screamed if she'd had anything left to scream with.

Lyss' body hit the bottom, her hands reaching out as if to swim one stroke further. As her arms sank with the rest of her, her hands brushed up against that strange object she thought she'd seen just some seconds ago, and she felt an odd windy sensation, and suddenly she was no longer dying on the bottom of the lake, but coughing up salt water and breathing in clean air and everything hurt but she was alive, and she coughed up more water and breathed more air, and her lungs stopped burning, though they still ached, and she was alive.

Her vision returned in speckles of warm light. She felt the presence of someone standing over her, and she turned to look, only to be met with a puff of putrid smoke. Lyss coughed more, this time from the suffocation of the whatever-it-was that was circling smoke rings around her head, and she heard,

"_Who_...ARE...you?"


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: I promise I'm still writing this story and will be seeing it through to the end! For those of you still reading, thank you so very much for your patience-you are too good to me. I appreciate your readership and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this next chapter! Thank you, and happy reading!_

* * *

><p>"I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit.<br>"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it along the way."

-A.A. Milne

"It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world."

-John Green

* * *

><p>She married him in a cold room on a Sunday morning during summertime.<p>

The room was white and pink flowers bloomed outside.

He slipped the ring on her finger and they said "I do".

She's not sure when she agreed to this.

But then, she forgets a lot of things.

A product of her lifestyle

_Not all here myself._

She thinks she could like him.

Maybe it won't be so bad.

And yet.

She definitely didn't see herself going any place if she stuck with this.

But she could give it a try.

It wasn't like she'd end up hurting people in the process, after all.

* * *

><p>Darkness. Smoke. Raw, bitter almonds in her nose. Darkness again. Floating voices, one deep and scratchy, the other soft and ladylike.<p>

"Do you think that's-"

"Absolutely not, she's no reason to come here."

"But she just looks so simi-"

"It's not her. She doesn't even know about this place."

"But-"

"That's why we're safe here. Because she doesn't know."

A sigh. "If you say so."

She heard fuzzy white noises, and then "Merde, elle s'est revillée."

Lyss felt a thin scrap of fabric cover her nose, and smelled the bitter almonds again, and passed out once more.

* * *

><p>"I still say it's her."<p>

"Then perhaps you should stop drugging her and ask."

"It's not like I'd get an honest response if it _was_ her."

"Well then, you seem to have run yourself into a bit of a conundrum. What name did she give you when you asked her?"

"She said her name was Lyss. Sounds like a flimsy attempt to cover up that other name, if you ask me."

"She wouldn't have answered with that name if you'd asked her. She hardly identifies with it anymore."

"How do you know?"

"I know her like my own self. She'd have used a different name."

Lyss decided that it was best to stay silent and asleep as the strange smoking man and the regal woman argued over her.

* * *

><p>When they finally let her wake up for good, Lyss found herself in a room with golden walls, with overwrought corinthian columns tucked into each of the four corners. Her bed was large and soft, a heavy quilt patterned with a large red heart laying over her. She blinked a few times, looking around the strange room as she slowly regained awareness. There was laughter coming from somewhere, and it took her a few moments to realize that the bizarre, giddy sound was her own. She frowned, unsettled by the noise, and then started laughing again, for no reason that she could discern.<p>

"How are you feeling, miss?"

Lyss turned around and looked straight into the glassy eyes of the smoking man, who was sitting on a stool at the far side of the room.

"My head hurts," she replied, with a soft giggle. She had no idea why she couldn't stop laughing, quite aware that nothing was funny.

"An unfortunate side effect." The smoking man stood and walked to her bedside. "You should be fine soon." He leaned forward and rested a delicate hand on her forehead. This close, Lyss could smell the woody smoke on his clothes. It was dark and permanent-a smell so strong could never be properly washed away.

"Who are you?" she asked him.

His face was stubbornly impassive, "I should ask you the same thing."

Lyss laughed in reply.

"What's so funny?" the man asked.

She sat up and leaned forward conspiratorially, like she was about to divulge a tremendous secret. She whispered, "I thought I knew the answer to that once, but I don't anymore." Another short laugh, "You may call me Lyss, though. That's what the cat said."

The man sat back in his chair and breathed in from his intricate glass hookah. He exhaled a large puff of blue smoke, "What cat?"

"The Cheshire Cat. Do you not know him?" Lyss asked as she flopped backwards onto the bed, sprawling her limbs out to the edges. "How curious. I thought everyone did."

The man exhaled another puff of smoke, this one a sickly pale green. Lyss gave him adequate time to respond, but he never spoke, and so her mind wandered. Her head really hurt, and everything was so, so funny. And the bed was so soft and comfortable and not hers.

Not...hers. The bed...was not...hers? Where was she?

Lyss snapped up, sitting upright, and stared straight at the smoking man. "Where am I?"

The man barely regarded her as he smoked, his glassy eyes choosing instead to stare at the ceiling, "Are you telling me you don't know?"

"Yes."

"May I ask what brought you here, then?"

"What do you mean?" Lyss asked, her brow furrowed.

The man exhaled three perfect rings of sparkly yellow smoke, "If you don't know where you are, did you intend to end up here?"

Lyss frowned, "Are you trying to imply something, sir?"

"The ladies-in-waiting found dozens of stones on your person. And hardly any identifying trinkets." He paused and took another drag, "Such factors can only make me draw unpleasant conclusions."

Lyss gave a short bark of incredulous laughter, "You think I was trying to drown myself?"

The man shrugged, "It's a logical assumption. You cannot argue that."

Lyss opened her mouth, as if to do exactly that, but shut it a few moments later and looked down at her hands. She laced her fingers together and examined her clasped hands. She sighed, lost in thought, and then a fuzzy, watery memory emerged in the forefront of her mind.

The gloves. She wasn't wearing them.

Lyss took a deep breath and continued to look down, "Where did you put them?"

"Put what?"

"What did you do with them? Where are they?" Lyss looked up and slowly inched herself off the bed, moving ever closer to the smoking man.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, girl."

Lyss smirked and held up her hands, fingers spread, "Don't you?"

"I-I-"

Lyss grabbed the man by the lapels of his strange jacket and tugged him to his feet. "Give them back!" she spat at him. She was right in his face, gripping with everything she had, and then she remembered a very different situation with a very different man. "And what did they do to him? Is he okay?"

"Miss, please, I'll get your stuff-"

"They're no good without him! I need him!" Lyss roughly shook the man, screaming in his face. His glassy eyes cleared and widened. "Tell me!" she screamed, and she felt her eyes spilling salty tears.

Before she could register it, the man pulled a wet cloth from his back pocket and held it firmly over her nose and mouth, forcing her to breath in the scent of bitter almonds. He wrapped his other arm around her, rooting her in place, unable to get away. She struggled, tried to wriggle herself free, but she soon passed out yet again.

* * *

><p>"Are you feeling better, miss?"<p>

The smoking man was standing, peering down at her.

"No," she whispered, and she turned her attention to her hands, holding them up in front of her face, inspecting them.

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" and Lyss was shocked by the sincerity of his voice.

She barked out a laugh, "Yeah, stop with the cyanide poisoning."

The man did not see the humour in it that she did, and with a straight face, he informed her that he had no other choice.

"Though I am curious," he continued, "as to who this enigmatic man was that you mentioned."

Lyss felt her throat close up, an invisible hand reaching out and making it difficult to form words around the force. "I don't want to talk about it, especially to a stranger," she whispered, and she stared up at the ceiling so as to prevent any traitorous tears from spilling over.

The man nodded, "Very well." He turned to leave, and when he reached the door, he called back to Lyss. "I've left your possessions on the table, by the way. And people call me Caterpillar, miss." And then he left, finally, and she was alone with two pristine gloves and a horrendously green top hat.

Automatically, Lyss reached for the gloves first and slipped them on her hands; the simple act made her feel a bit better, and she curled to her side, resting her hands below her cheek, and stared at the hat until she fell asleep yet again.

Before she slipped into her unconsciousness, Lyss thought of how much easier it would be to ignore the problems of Wonderland and sleep through it all.

* * *

><p>She was convinced out of her chamber later that day (or at least it seemed to be that same day, but Lyss hadn't bothered to keep close track). Lyss was led by a guard, who had been informed by Caterpillar to watch as the girl "exercised". Supposedly, it would be beneficial to her well-being.<p>

Lyss suspected it was just a way for them to change her bedsheets without intruding on her privacy.

She'd not bothered to change, wearing the nightgown she'd woken in and her gloves, and carried the hat in her hands as she walked beside the guard. He was a large man and spoke not at all, not even for an introduction, so Lyss dutifully walked where he led, occasionally speaking but not making a real effort at conversation. They stopped in a grand room with yet more pillars and tall windows. Ornate wooden doors stood opposite the side of the room she'd entered, and a small raised platform presented a single, plush red chair. Beyond the platform were yet more windows, and Lyss walked over to them as her guard watched from the doorway.

Carefully, she propped the hat on the thin sill. She rested her hands on the sill and let her fingers tap tiny tunes on the wood. She did not know why she'd come to the window, for she had no desire to look outside, but she was tired, despite excessive rest, and so she stayed put.

If these were the after effects of nearly drowning, she desired not to attempt it again.

She felt awkward, standing in her nightgown in the middle of a great room, being watched by an armed stranger, but there was little she could do about the situation. It was too soon to ask if she could go back, and she felt that perhaps they had come to the room for a reason.

"Stay here," her guard spoke, the only words she'd heard him say, and he slipped out of the ornate doors, leaving her alone.

"I am so lost," Lyss whispered, looking down at her hands. She rubbed the tips of her forefinger and thumb together, feeling the silk of the gloves caress her skin.

Suddenly, the doors flung open to reveal a visionary monarch dressed in swaths of black silk and red satin, her noir hair drawn into a strict high bun to better display a golden crown with a perfectly cut heart shaped crimson stone in the exact center.

The Queen.

The royal lady gave a taut smile to Lyss, the very edges of her thin mouth just barely turning upward. "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there."

"Who are you?"

"I am a great many persons, my dear." She paused to ascend the platform, joining Lyss by the window. "I am a friend, an enemy, a woman of wealth. I am an inventor, a peacekeeper, and the woman with the furious temper. I am a warrior, I am a civilian, and I am the rightful queen of the land that rests just above our feet."

"Above our feet? What do you mean?"

"Child, have you not noticed?" She gestured out into the grand hall, sweeping her arm through the negative space. "Our exile is upside down. The physics of the land above are reversed here."

Lyss sighed, realizing for the first time that the weight of her blonde hair was not resting on her shoulders but rather had taken to sticking straight up from her crown. "I should be used to things like this by now."

The Queen turned and faced the window, resting her gloved fingers on the sill. "Wonderland has a tendency to change just as one is accustomed to its madness."

"Please, let's not talk of madness right now."

"Such a topic is difficult to circumvent."

"I know, but..." she trailed off, then whispered, "I fear I'm not ready to talk of madness just yet."

"Very well, my dear." They stood in silence for a while, and Lyss took the opportunity to note the reversal of the room. It was something she had suspected, though the palace did a wonderful job of concealing the fact, for there were stained wooden floors beneath her feet, and marbled ceiling above her head, giving a gravitationally typical illusion. But there had been those trees just beyond, those shrubberies and rose bushes that were distinctly strange, and now that she knew to look for it, she noticed that the trunks of the trees narrowed at the bottom rather than ending in an exposé of gnarled roots, and that the roses were pointing down, not up.

"Wait," Lyss said, "If you're the rightful ruler of Wonderland, does that make you...?"

"The Queen of Hearts, yes. That is my given title."

"How is that possible?"

"It's a very long story."

"I have time."

The Queen drew in a breath, "I thought you did not wish to speak of madness."

"Does the story have a lot of it?"

"It is fraught with it. Madness will permeate every sentence, for it is the only way the story makes sense."

"I suppose we can save it for later, then."

The Queen smiled, "You are just as curious as ever, child." The royal woman gestured to a guard, "You need more rest. I shall see you later for dinner."

And with that, Lyss was led out of the massive hall and back into her room, sans Caterpillar, and she promptly removed her consciousness from the passing minutes, returning only when a resounding knock woke her and an older woman barged in. The woman rushed to Lyss' side, slapped her cheeks a few times, and dragged her out of the bed to dress her in the blue gown she'd arrived in, though it was now completely dry, and Lyss suspected it had likely undergone a few repairs along the seams, for certain spots felt a hint tighter and resistant to her shape, and considering her journey to reach Here, it was unlikely that the dress survived entirely unscathed. The woman said nothing, and only winked when she presented Lyss with a pair of new stockings; they were a very fine material and covered in small blue dots that made Lyss feel like she had some sort of strange disease, though she was too polite to make mention of it, and as stockings were garments not meant to be seen, it was best left alone.

After a brush of Lyss' hair and the unravelling of a few pesky knots by nimble fingers, Lyss was ushered out the door and led to a cavernous room with a table longer than the March Hare's set in the middle. The table was painted a pure white and carved with swirls and waves; it was somehow fussy and frilly, and Lyss thought it looked a bit French in design. Stacks and platters were piled with food of questionable origin, though the sheer amount made it clear that despite being underground and in hiding the palace and its residents were not left wanting. The scent of sweetness, akin to maple syrup, blended with the smell of ash-something was burnt, perhaps in a glazing gone wrong.

This, combined with Lyss' absent appetite, was enough to put her off the meal, but she took her place to the left of the Queen all the same.

Across from her, on the Queen's right, sat Caterpillar, and Lyss smiled meekly at him, for it was difficult to say if their relationship at its fragile stage would be one of mutualism. She glanced down the table to avoid staring at the man, and watched as the last remaining individuals took their seats. It was not an especially extravagant affair, but all the same, several ladies used the physics of a world upside down to create the most bizarre hairstyles Lyss had ever seen. One woman had her hair piled in a tower of curls, with a working clock face buried in the front, that reminded Lyss of Big Ben. Yet another woman had flattened her hair out into a wide circular tutu atop her head, and the last, Lyss' favorite, had opted to tease her hair out into billowing sails that actually moved to give the illusion of wind.

The Queen's voice made Lyss snap her head back to her more renowned company. "You've met the illustrious Mr. Caterpillar, haven't you, dear?" the royal lady asked.

"Yes, I have."

"She made quite the first impression, Your Majesty," he commented.

The Queen shook her head softly and batted her hand at him in a slow and lazy manner; certainly, it was not her intent to actually hit the man. "He takes a bit of warming up to. But Mr. Caterpillar is a friend worth having." The Queen took a sip of her drink. "I hardly know what I would do without him."

"You would be perfectly fine, Your Majesty," came Caterpillar's modest reply. Lyss noticed that he seemed intensely distracted by his food-he hardly looked up, and refused to meet the present company's eyes.

"You know that's not true," the Queen said, her food forgotten as she stared at Caterpillar. He looked up briefly, and returned to his meal straight away. Lyss saw a faint pink blush sweep his cheeks, and suddenly she felt distinctly uncomfortable; she shouldn't be there, and neither should any of those other people at the long table, and yet there was no easy way to evacuate the room without fabricating an emergency-a fire, certainly, would have been ideal-and so she was stuck with a realization and the inability to do anything about it.

She decided picking at her food would be an ideal compromise to her uncomfortable position. There was some sort of meaty substance, something green that she'd never seen before, and a piece of bread that more closely resembled cake (and for that reason, Lyss decided it best to avoid eating that, lest she end up growing to the size of the ceiling or shrink down to the size of her fork).

She heard Caterpillar clearing his throat, and she looked up, startled.

"I'm sorry, did someone say something?" she asked.

"I only asked if you wanted anything to drink," Caterpillar repeated.

Lyss leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it's a good idea for me to drink anything."

"You don't even wish for a touch of Drink Me, my dear?" the Queen asked.

"I-what?" Lyss asked. She felt hot, and pressed a hand to the back of her neck. "I-no. No." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I must excuse myself."

"But you've hardly touched your food!" the Queen declared.

"I'm quite full. Not especially hungry."

Caterpillar stood and walked to Lyss' chair, gently taking her hand and helping her up. "I'll escort Miss Lyss to her rooms."

The Queen furrowed her brow, "Do hurry back."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The capable guidance of Caterpillar led Lyss through the turning and twisting hallways of the castle-or refuge-and soon she found herself back in her bed.

"I can give you a sedative if you like. To help you sleep."

Lyss curled herself into a ball underneath her blankets, still fully clothed. "I'd rather you not."

"Are you certain?"

"I don't want _anything_," she asserted.

Caterpillar turned away to leave her to her rest, and just as he reached the door, he spoke, facing away from Lyss. "You best rest well, miss. Tomorrow, we'll have to ask you some questions, regardless of how cooperative you are feeling."

"And if I refuse?"

He twisted his head back to her, his hand on the door, "Believe me when I say that it would be in your best interests to be as obliging as you can." And with that, Caterpillar left her alone for the night.

Lyss was fairly certain that, though there was no malice in his voice, his last words had been a threat.

She was reminded again of how alone she was.


	13. Chapter 13

"Give me but a firm spot on which to stand, and I shall move the earth."

-Archimedes

* * *

><p>He solemnly looked in the mirror and frowned. He could have sworn that he had already straightened his tie dozens of times before then, and yet it insisted on making itself crooked. He sighed and set to work, concentrating fully on his task, trying not to wander to other unpleasant things.<p>

"I won't bite, you know," he said, his eyes meeting that of a cautious friend's in the mirror.

"I do know. Others don't."

"I'm not wild."

"Of course you aren't."

He chuckled, "You don't believe me."

"Of course I don't."

"And why should you."

"Precisely. I've seen what happens up close too many times to not be a tad nervous."

"Then leave me alone."

"Unlikely."

The man sighed again and shook his head. He understood why-really, he did-but was it too much to hope that everyone would ignore the circumstance and see that he was already too far gone?

* * *

><p>Lyss was not taken to the great hall the next morning; rather, an ambiguous someone had decided that she would "do well to eat in her room, quickly", and if she could, they would like her to "wear her most comfortable dress" for apparently morning interrogations were "just casual little things" and hardly anyone would "scrutinize her lack of fashion", as it were. She was left a single hard-boiled egg of unknown origin, a pastry with some sort of jam in the center, and a cup of tea, sugared and creamed in advance and not to her taste. This was all unimportant, though, for Lyss found that she had very little appetite anyway; she was already full of nerves.<p>

She donned a pale blue artistic dress that she'd discovered in the depths of her closet, and after a moment's consideration, she added those polka dot stockings to her ensemble as well. No one would see them, after all, and perhaps a drop of moxie was to be found in her secret.

Just as she had begun to hope that perhaps everyone had forgotten about her interrogation, she was interrupted by a sharp knock on her door, the second today, and she was unsurprised to find a guard on the other side. He gestured for her to follow him, though she initially refused, taking a quick glance about the room first. She spotted the gloves of her once companion and conspirator resting on the bedside table, and she rushed over to put them on.

Though it was not as comforting as a real hand, Lyss felt slightly more assured.

The guard led her through twisting halls that meandered in all sorts of directions, including upside-down-or, as the place was already upside-down, perhaps this was really just right-side-up-at a brisk pace, and Lyss was nearly running to keep up with him. They wandered past portraits and halls covered in an uncountable amount of mirrors and numerous doors, hiding secrets Lyss wished to discover. Her hands became uncomfortably warm at the thought, and she hastened to suppress it with blank thoughts-or tired mascots. It seemed to help, though she was unsettled.

At long last, they reached their destination: a small door that blended entirely into the wall, save for the small, silver knob that poked out. The guard opened the door for her and indicated that she was to enter, and Lyss thought that his actions were far too gentlemanly for the circumstance, though she entered with a polite smile.

A single wooden table, painted white, and plain in all other aspects-no carvings, no chips, not even any adornments. A wooden white chair, as plain as the table. White walls on three sides, complemented by a white ceiling with a single white light illuminating the space. Soft, white carpet that lacked that certain plushness found in other places of the palace. And facing the chair, a large glass that likely went two ways covered the entire wall-left to right and floor to ceiling. It was the only dark object in the room; everything else was immaculately white.

It was enough of a contrast for Lyss to see spots of color peppering her vision. Circles of blue and green danced in the union of the glass and the walls, and reds and oranges flickered on and off by the light in the ceiling.

Not even a minute in, and Lyss felt that this would become a most hated room.

She took her seat in the stiff white chair and closed her eyes, hoping to block out the colors, but they lingered on her lids in protest. The dots were here to dance, and they demanded an active audience. The nerves in her stomach multiplied, and she fidgeted with a nervous energy.

After what felt like half an hour, but was actually two minutes, a booming voice echoed through the room.

"STATE YOUR NAME," it demanded. Lyss thought it might be the voice of a man, but she couldn't be sure. She had been expecting Caterpillar, but this did not sound like him.

More disconcerting, however, was that she knew not how to answer the androgynous being. She had been changed several times since first arriving in Wonderland so long ago, and she hardly knew, just at present, which self she had become; indeed, it would have been easier to identify herself by who she was _not_.

"I...I don't know," she stammered meekly, glancing down at her hands.

"GUESS," it said, and Lyss jumped.

"I suppose I shall try, ah, Lyss Little," she said.

A few moments passed, and Lyss thought she could hear a soft whirring sound from the other room.

"IDENTITY CONFIRMED: ALICE LIDDEL."

Lyss' head shot up and she slammed her hands against the table. "But that's not what I-!" Lyss tried to correct it.

"FROM WHENCE DID YOU COME?" it interrupted, as though unaware that she'd even spoken.

"Oxford, England," she answered, leaning back in her chair as best she could and crossing her arms.

"RESPONSE NOT RECOGNIZED." The disembodied voice was so mechanical and electronic, and it grated in her ears.

Lyss rolled her eyes, "Wonderland."

"LOCATION CONFIRMED: WONDERLAND. HOW DID YOU ARRIVE IN THE WORLD UNDERGROUND?"

And thus, thought Lyss, the real line of questioning begins. "I entered through the door at the bottom of the lake."

"MODE OF TRAVEL CONFIRMED: MIRROR JUMPING. HOW DID YOU GO THROUGH THE MIRROR?"

She was a bit thrown by the question, for she could recall no mirrors in her travels, for even the one in her old apartment had never been used as a personal route into Wonderland. But she answered as best she knew. "I own a special pair of gloves that allow me to travel." She squeezed her hands together as she spoke, as if she were worried that someone might come whisk the gloves away from her if her answers were deemed unacceptable.

"RESPONSE CONFIRMED: GLOVES. HOW WERE SAID GLOVES OBTAINED?"

Lyss felt a sharp, sudden tightness in her chest, "A friend gave them to me for safekeeping."

"WHAT IS THE NAME OF THIS FRIEND?"

What was his name, indeed? The Hatter, one of her best friends in all of Wonderland, had never actually disclosed this information to Lyss. She wondered if he even had a proper name at all, or if his profession alone had been explanation enough. "He goes by Hatter."

"RESPONSE CONFIRMED: FRIEND OF MAD HATTER."

Lyss sat up straight, "He's not mad!"

"HOW DID YOU DISCOVER THE PRESENCE OF THE MIRROR?"

She sighed, "I thought it was a door."

"RESPONSE NOT RECOGNIZED."

"Fine! I guessed."

"PLEASE CLARIFY RESPONSE."

Lyss couldn't help but think that she could personally use some clarification, for she was not entirely sure as to what exactly had happened herself; however, she knew the sequence of peculiar events, and so began at the beginning. "I was in a rather grand house one afternoon and happened to be peering out the window when I noticed a whirlpool in the center of the lake. Now, I have read many, many tedious books on the history of Wonderland and all of its aspects, and not a single book, not even the one that heavily detailed each and every locale that one could possibly find in Wonderland, including the ones that haven't even been found yet, mentioned the presence of a whirlpool. I became curious, and so I went into town to repair a certain...a certain object I'd acquired and while I waited I went to the library and researched how whirlpools formed and also I bought my blue traveling dress. And when I discovered how they were formed, I suspected something was down there. And then I discovered how the gloves worked, and how the doors work, and I guessed, and I was right, and very nearly died because I was too curious."

"ONE MOMENT PLEASE."

Lyss was left to sit in uncomfortable silence as more of that strange whirring sound echoed in the stark white room. Without the line of questioning to distract her, the circles of color that her retinas imagined became more and more prominent and painful; they seared onto her eyelids and no amount of blinking would allow her to escape them, though she gave it a valiant attempt.

"CURIOSITY," the voice intoned metallically, its sudden speech making Lyss jump, "KILLED. THE CAT."

Lyss scoffed, amused by the cliched and falsified notion. "Funny, the ones I know are all alive because of it."

"PLEASE CLARIFY RESPONSE."

"Figure it out," she mumbled under her breath.

"RESPONSE NOT RECOGNIZED."

"No," she said.

"RESPONSE NOT RECOGNIZED."

"I said no."

"RESPONSE NOT RECOGNIZED. TERMINATION CONFIRMED. COUNTING DOWN: TEN. NINE. EIGHT. SEVE-"

Panicked, Lyss chose to forego her stubbornness and explain herself. "Okay, okay! I only meant that I knew the Cheshire Cat and he seems a curious cat. And he's very much alive."

"RESPONSE CONFIRMED. SUBJECT HAS RELATIONSHIP WITH CHESHIRE CAT. STATUS OF CAT UNKOWN."

"What does that mean?"

"PLEASE DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS."

"Why not?" Lyss was only marginally aware of the irony in asking a question after explicitly being told not to, and it made her feel slightly petulant.

Unsurprisingly, the voice chose to ignore her. "HOW DID YOU DISCOVER THE PROPER USE OF THE GLOVES?"

"I read it," she said, and then, as an unnecessary byline, added, "In a book."

"WHICH BOOK?"

Lyss thought back to her last visit to the Hatter's house, and the strange materializing book now hidden somewhere in the depths of his hat. "It didn't have a title."

"WHERE DID YOU FIND THE BOOK?"

"It was in a personal library."

"WHOSE PERSONAL LIBRARY?"

"The Hatter's."

The voice paused its rapid fire line of questioning, and Lyss took a breath, realizing that she needed to be doing so more often than she was.

"DO YOU KNOW THE STATUS OF THE MAD HATTER?"

Lyss furrowed her brow, "I don't understand the question."

"DO YOU KNOW THE STATUS OF THE MAD HATTER?" the voice repeated.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Please rephrase the question so that I may properly respond to it."

"IS HE WORKING FOR THE QUEEN OR THE REBELLION?"

Lyss knew that the Hatter was doing something for the royal house of Wonderland, but she had been under the assumption that all of it was mere cover. "The rebellion. I think."

"CAN YOU POSITIVELY CONFIRM THIS INFORMATION?"

"I...I mean, we've never talked about it in detail but I'm quite sure he's against the Queen." Lyss felt needlessly defensive, and she was puzzled as to why. The motives of the Hatter had been perfectly clear, she thought, and she shouldn't have to defend him so staunchly.

"DO YOU KNOW THE LOCATION OF THE MAD HATTER?"

Lyss was silent as she thought back to her last hour in Wonderland, back to the last moments she'd shared with the Hatter, back to his warnings, back to his ill concealed fear of something-or someone. "Not positively. But I believe he...I believe he...he may have been taken somewhere."

"PLEASE CLARIFY LOCATION: SOMEWHERE."

An image of the Hatter shackled to the walls of some brick building, caged in by bars, floated to the forefront of Lyss' mind. "Jail," she whispered.

There was silence as the machine whirred, and Lyss wondered what the purpose of these pointed questions regarding the Hatter were. Somehow, it felt that there was more going on than a mere confirmation that the Hatter was indeed on the side of the rebellion.

"DATE AND TIME INCONCLUSIVE. CONFIRMATION UNAVAILABLE."

"Confirmation? Of what?"

"WHAT IS THE SEASON IN WONDERLAND?"

"It had just become autumn when I left."

"RESULTS INCONCLUSIVE. DO YOU KNOW THE STATUS OF THE CHESHIRE CAT?"

"I don't think anyone knows the _status_ of the Cheshire Cat besides the cat himself."

"PLEASE DESCRIBE ANY SUSPICIOUS BEHAVIOR OF THE CHESHIRE CAT."

Lyss considered the demand for a minute. She certainly would be in her right to inform the voice about the gun that Chesh had pointedly dropped near her-and she was quite sure now that his actions had been intentional rather than circumstantial-but describing this instance would only lead to questions about the gun and its whereabouts, and Lyss definitely did not want anyone to know that within the green felt hat sitting on her bedside table, there was a weapon. "I never saw any strange behavior from him. He brought me here, though, if that is any help."

"PLEASE CLARIFY LOCATION: HERE."

"Wonderland, obviously," Lyss sighed, tired of having to clarify what should have been obvious to the voice.

"WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?"

It was not a question Lyss had expected to hear; however, she found that she had the answer perfectly prepared. "I am most certainly not aligned with the Queen. She's a monster." The voice increased its whirring, going faster as it spun with the new information she gave it, and Lyss felt annoyed-she was ready to stop this interrogation. "But I haven't quite decided if I will be benefited by working with the rebellion, either."

The room was filled with absolute, sudden silence. All activity had ceased on the side of the mirror hidden from Lyss, and she imagined that whoever was hidden from her was anxiously consulting the guidance of others, computing and calculating the next question carefully-and she was fairly certain of what that question might be. After a few minutes, it intoned, "HOW CAN THE REBELLION GAIN YOUR ALLIANCE?"

She smirked, for her assumptions had been correct. The benefit of the voice, and interrogation by machine, was that technology was patterned, and with a bit of study, such patterns could be revealed. Lyss stood, put her fists on the table, and stared straight into the mirror in front of her. "Well, it can start by letting me talk to an actual person and not some voice while I am forced to sit in the most disorienting room I have ever been in."

Just as she finished her sentence, the door to the room opened, and the guard who had escorted her just that morning burst through, holding the door handle. He motioned for her to follow him, and she thankfully obeyed, glad to be leaving that awful white-washed room.

She was led just one door down, to the room behind the glass. Rather than being completely stark white with a dark mirror, this room was reversed, painted all black with a clean white mirror. Despite the relief in the contrast, it was still optically confusing, and Lyss found that she would have much preferred to have this meeting in another section of the palace entirely. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, but squinting allowed her to make out the form of a table and several chairs, one of which was occupied. Sitting on the table was a large machine of sorts, and once she was used to the darkness, Lyss noticed that several cables and tubes attached to the machine led to minuscule holes in the floor just in front of the mirror. More important, however, was the man sitting in one of the chairs, and the wisps of grey smoke circling the ceiling.

Lyss was the first to speak, "Caterpillar."

"Alice."

Lyss crossed her arms, "I told you to call me Lyss."

The man only took a deep inhale from his hookah and exhaled several rings of decreasing size. "If you insist."

Lyss nodded, "I do."

He shrugged, "Very well, then."

Lyss walked over to the nearest chair and sat, opposite Caterpillar. Both the chair and the table were made of a dark metal, and were cold to the touch. She looked at the machine and, from her new angle, saw that a compartment containing tapes was ajar-presumably, they were the recordings of her earlier encounter. A small microphone rested on the table near Caterpillar, and Lyss realized that the voice was indeed more than just a machine, and as such, she would be able to rely on empathy to obtain her goals.

Caterpillar remained seated, and he stared intently at Lyss, studying her. She knew what his last question had been, and she was trying to determine the best way to respond to it-tact would be key, but she would need some sort of leverage.

Finally, Caterpillar asked her the question she was waiting to hear. "What do you want?"

Lyss leaned forward and placed her elbows on the cool surface of the table, "Look, I may have no idea what I'm doing, but I am fairly certain that you people are even more clueless. I've been up there recently. I know what you're up against. But I can't take down an entire regime and its very large army by myself."

Caterpillar regarded her for a few moments before saying, "Are you saying you need an army?"

"I'm saying I need people," Lyss clarified.

Caterpillar cleared his throat. "And what will you do when you have them?"

Lyss leaned back in her chair and smirked. "Find a way back. And then see what kind of hell we can stir up."

"And if I give you people..."

"I want the rebellion to align with me, Caterpillar. Not the other way around," she explained.

Caterpillar was silent, and Lyss feared that she had demanded too much. She knew her position was weak, and that she was in no place to be sovereign, but if she was going to be the person everyone told her she was, then she had to take the chance and take charge.

"I'll see what I can do," he finally answered, and he stood and walked around the table to where Lyss was seated. He pulled out Lyss' chair and quietly escorted her out of the room.

* * *

><p>Several twisting hallways later, Lyss was returned to her chambers and left alone. She immediately sat at a mahogany desk and pulled out several sheets of paper and a fountain pen. The pages stared up at her and she poised her pen carefully in her hand to scratch out elaboration, and yet nothing came to her. The feeling of confidence in her plan slowly drained out of her, and soon she found herself etching swirls instead of writing some sort of vague idea of what she wanted to do. With a sigh, she abandoned the desk and circled the room, with no particular intent, though Lyss found that she kept coming back to the bedside table and the Hatter's hat.<p>

Finally, after several pointless circles of the room, Lyss stopped and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the bedside table and its very green object. Gingerly, she picked it up, careful not to pinch the sides too hard, and set it on her lap with the head hole facing upwards. Holding it, Lyss felt that familiar feeling she often encountered with closed doors: she had to know what was on the other side. She readjusted the Hatter's gloves, ensuring that they were secure, and with her hands on the brim, she leaned forward ever so slightly and peered inside. Lyss could see nothing, however, except darkness-surprising, as she thought she would most certainly see the bottom, and she had secretly been hoping that a cup of tea prepared just as her dear friend might have made it would be waiting for her to drink.

Tentatively, she reached her right hand in. It grew warm, and Lyss found that rather than hitting a bottom, she could reach and reach and reach, and soon the hat was positioned at her shoulder, her entire arm engulfed by the hat. She didn't know what to do from there, and so she tried focusing her thoughts on an object-the book, in this case-hoping that it would appear in her hand. When nothing happened, she sighed and removed her hand, setting the hat back on her lap, and tried the same thing with her left hand. She came up empty yet again, even after she waved her arm about, trying to knock into something. Lyss removed her hand and sighed.

Perhaps the hat was not a storage, perhaps it was something else. A portal, maybe, and the objects were now all sitting somewhere in a neat pile, waiting for someone to stumble upon them.

But no, that couldn't be the case. There had been far too many inexplainable object appearances in her time with the Hatter for that to be true.

Lyss tried again with her right hand, this time waving her arm around and clasping her hand. She felt a bit foolish.

And then her hand was heavy with _something_, and she gripped it tightly and pulled her arm out, suddenly feeling not so foolish and far more clever.

When she pulled her arm out, she discovered that she had found precisely what she had needed-a cup of tea, smelling of a familiar dark spice with mint and a hint of lemon, and prepared exactly to her taste, unlike her cup of tea served just that morning. She smiled, and set the hat back on her nightstand for another time, and then she walked to her bedroom window, the cup of tea held tightly in her hand. Lyss spent some time just smelling the tea, telling herself that the tea was too hot to drink just yet, though she knew that she had another reason for wanting to experience the scent. Carefully, she set the cup on the windowsill and removed the gloves, for they were now unneeded, and then she resumed her quiet respite as she studied the roses growing somewhere above her window.

She was not wanting company, and so when Lyss heard the door of the room open, she did not turn to see who approached.

"What are you doing, my dear?" said the Queen, and Lyss gasped and gave a quick curtsy, not realizing that she was potentially behaving rudely by ignoring the door.

Lyss turned back to the window, "Just thinking."

The Queen glided to Lyss' side. "Do let me know if I can do anything for you. I imagine your morning was not particularly pleasant, and I do want you to be as comfortable as possible."

Lyss stood silently, her head slightly bowed, staring into her cup of tea as she thought over the offer. There were a few things she would have liked-a semblance of a plan, stockings without polka dots, and a less garish room to stay in, to name a few-but none of them felt worth prioritizing, and so she settled for the one thing she knew she needed. "I would like to hear that story now, if you don't mind, Your Majesty."

"Are you certain?" The Queen joined Lyss at the window, her manicured hands lightly skimming the sill.

Lyss nodded. "Yes. I must know."

The Queen only closed her eyes and gave a slight, taut smile; somehow, though, it was not unfriendly, only mildly vexed. "Very well. Allow me to tell you the tale of a woman gone mad."


	14. Chapter 14

"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

><p>Kiss me she said.<p>

Why now he asked.

Why not she reasoned.

Well okay he did.

He was not one to argue with such logic.

* * *

><p>"You should probably sit down for this." The Queen gestured to a small breakfast table tucked into the corner of Lyss' room, and together they walked over and took a seat opposite the other. Lyss felt herself leaning forward just slightly, her posture straighter than it might have been if this had been a casual conversation about the weather or the style of her hair-she had not realized just how badly she wanted to hear this story before now.<p>

The Queen had her hands folded demurely on top of the table, and she was staring unfocused in their direction, likely collecting her thoughts.

"I'm going to call for some tea, if you don't mind," she informed Lyss as she reached for a small golden bell that hung just above the table. Moments after she rang it, someone knocked on the door, and the Queen called out an order of two chamomile teas and some petit fours. She did not say anything else.

"Will the tea be here soon, Your Majesty?" Lyss asked, trying not to sound too pushy, afraid that her eagerness might come off the wrong way.

"It will be fifteen minutes at least," the Queen replied and she went back to her poised position.

"Then, if you don't mind of course, could you possibly begin the story?" It was only as an afterthought that Lyss remembered to meekly add "Your Majesty" after her question.

The Queen glanced at the door, then down at her hands again before looking at Lyss. "Very well," she said. "There's no sense in putting it off, I suppose." She sighed, "Let's see, where to begin..."

"If I may, Your Majesty, I suggest the beginning."

The Queen smiled, "Wise advice, certainly, but the beginning-the very beginning-is of little use to you. What you want is_ a_ beginning. The beginning of the story of the last Alice."

Lyss frowned slightly but assented, "Whatever you feel is important is what I want to hear."

The Queen faltered and reached out her hand to rest on top of Lyss'. "Another time, my dear. If I begin at the very beginning, we will be here for days."

Lyss was certain that she would be in this place for days regardless, and that the telling of a sordid history could help pass that time away in a far more entertaining manner than such things as interrogations might, but she chose to bite back that particular comment.

The Queen began the tale:

"It was a morning that not even Dawn's rosy fingers could touch. Unusually good weather, with only a few wisps of cloud hanging in the sky. The kind of weather that leaves you neither too hot nor too cold regardless of what you wear. And the sky was the same color as her eyes. Naturally there were whispers behind doors that open and doors that travel and mirrors that shimmer-they said this was to be the day, the one where she would return. And of course she did. We knew it, we felt it, prophesied it, even, and so of course it came to pass.

"She fell down the rabbit hole, this time as a young woman. We had seen her other times, other places and other eras, but this time was closest to the first and that was enough to satisfy the heartache of the last time.

"You see, blonde women with blue eyes possessing The Name don't just happen upon this place. They know. And they find. Simple as that.

Lyss interrupted, "I didn't find it. They came for me and brought me here."

The Queen regarded Lyss for a moment. "Then you, my dear, would be the first to resist it. But I am certain that there is more than one instance in your life where something inexplicable occurred. Sudden sinkholes, doors where there had previously been none, mirrors that shimmered just a bit too perfectly in the light. Creatures in your dreams that you had never been able to explain, ones that your parents wrote off as the fanciful imaginings of a creative little girl. Am I incorrect?"

Lyss felt as if she'd been slapped awake, and slowly, she said, "No, Your Majesty."

The Queen patted the top of Lyss' hand, "Shall I continue with the story, or has something more interesting grabbed your attention?"

Lyss shook her head, "No, no, please continue. I'm sorry to have interrupted."

"Perhaps it was for the best," the Queen shrugged, and she cleared her throat and began her tale again.

"She fell on her own this time-there was no rabbit to help her find her way. Perhaps this was a sign of her ingenuity, one we should have seen from the beginning. For you see, it is difficult to separate out everything, especially when everything looks the same. Instinctually it is natural for us to greet her as the person we've always known, but each one is different, each one is a new and different life with experiences that aren't the same as the ones she had last time."

Lyss interrupted again, "I'm a bit confused, Your Majesty."

The Queen broke off her rambling and shook her head as if to clear it. "Forgive me. Forget that I mentioned anything." The Queen continued:

"It is said that she fell in the middle of the Tulgey Wood, entirely alone. She wandered her way through them, somehow figuring out how to read the directions left by the momeraths. She stumbled across a single occupancy house and from there she took a few steps into its backyard and so found her way to the tea party first. A twist of fate made the unlucky lucky. It is said that it was love at first sight, but it is also said that it couldn't have been for him, when he had seen her so many times before, and it is said that she couldn't possibly have loved at all if what she'd taken worked like they claimed. Tiny bits of some sort of Eat Me, but from your world. With pretty pictures to adorn them. It muddled her mind. But she'd stopped taking them-or maybe she just ran out-after they married."

"I'm sorry, I don't follow. Who married whom?" Lyss questioned, feeling rude for interrupting yet again.

"Why, the Hatter and Alice, of course." The Queen looked genuinely surprised, though Lyss wondered if perhaps she was just a decent actress-certainly, the Queen's look of surprise had nothing on Lyss' open mouth and wide eyes. "I thought he would have told you about that."

A knock on the door saved Lyss from having to respond. The Queen declared the door open, and a servant entered and set down the tea and petite fours ordered earlier. Lyss grabbed her cup as the Queen thanked and dismissed the servant, taking a huge, careless gulp in the hope of achieving-she was unsure what, exactly. Her only accomplishment was giving herself a burnt tongue as the liquid scalded its way down her throat.

"Are you alright, dear?" the Queen asked Lyss, her face filled with concern.

Lyss sputtered, "Tea's just a bit hot. Please continue." Lyss grabbed the plainest looking petite four-a white square with a red stripe down the middle-and popped it into her mouth. It was plain, yet richly spiced, and though the flavor was unusual, Lyss enjoyed it very much and was sad to see that it was the only one of its kind on the little plate.

The Queen went on with her story. "All seemed well for about a year, and then things took a turn. Being in the palace can lead to that. I forgot to remember those who I ruled, and unrest was inevitable. Though Wonderland is large, almost every citizen passes through the city at regular intervals, and the slightest whisper of dissatisfaction can become the cry of thousands in the span of a week. Before I knew it, we were at war, and worse yet, it was obvious that the battle had begun within. Someone or several someones from my trusted court. I never learned who the spark was."

"So you're saying you had a Franz Ferdinand?" Lyss asked.

The Queen shook her head, "Not the one you are thinking of. As far as I know the court traitor is still very much alive." The Queen's eyes hardened as she spoke, and for the first time since meeting her, Lyss could see a glimmer of the reputably dangerous woman behind the proper and gracious demeanor.

"Our Franz Ferdinand, as you so phrased it," the Queen explained, "was none other than Alice. A suit of cards marched up to the tea table one day and kidnapped her, screaming all the way. The last time I saw her, she was being dragged into the torture chambers of the palace. And someone had stolen her wedding band, I remember that as well. They banished me to the Outskirts, along with anyone who did not side with their cause, and they replaced me with another-a woman who called herself the _improved _Queen of Hearts." The Queen spit the phrase out, her anger clear. "It was only after a few months of her reign that the rebels began to assemble. But she caught wind, and we fled through the Looking Glass, which was promptly destroyed by one of our allies up top."

Lyss spoke, "May I ask who destroyed it?"

The Queen lifted her arm to cup her head in her hand, "Your friend. Hatter. It was needed to prove his loyalty. Though, of course, our inability to communicate with anyone above makes me wonder if any of those we left behind still favour us. You see, we've been here ever since we fled, bidding our time until we have the strength to return and rebel against the initial rebellion." The Queen paused and frowned a little. "It's all very French, really."

The women sat silent, sipping occasionally on their drinks.

Finally, Lyss asked, "How did Alice die? I saw her body. It looks relatively intact, for a dead person."

The Queen answered, "I never saw it in person, for I had already long been banished at that point, but several members of the Rebellion saw her publicly executed." She furrowed her brow. "Bit of an unusual execution, though. From what I hear the impostor favors beheading, but in this case they severed her femoral vein and let her bleed out." The Queen paused to take a bite of food. "I've always wondered why. I suppose she was too beloved for them to do anything that would mutilate her too severely. Easiest way to inflict fear in the masses without outraging them. And it made a symbol of her, too."

Lyss digested the new information. If she had known that the Queen was so eager to talk, she would have had this conversation days ago. "Is there anyone down here who saw it?"

The Queen sighed, "No one who would be willing to talk of it. But up top there are several, though depending on the day they may not be so chatty."

"Who?" Lyss demanded, and caught herself by adding a quick, "Your Majesty."

"Let's see," the Queen began. "There was Fury Mouse. Hatter-wait, no, he was in jail again. Oh!" the Queen straightened up. "The Cheshire Cat was there, if I recall."

Lyss nodded and stored the information away for later use. "You mentioned a place called the Outskirts. What-what exactly is that?"

"A whole lot of nothing," the Queen forcibly laughed. "The only building in the entire area is a jail for highly dangerous prisoners. Those the crown wishes its citizens to forget about."

"How does one get there, Your Majesty?"

The Queen looked at Lyss and scoffed. "You don't, my dear. Only high-level cards know how. And the only other way to get there is to deeply, truly want to go-and believe me, no one _wants_ to go there."

Lyss pondered the Queen's cautionary words. She felt that there was a good chance she would later be ignoring them. And Lyss couldn't help but wish that the Queen and her free-speaking tongue had been around when she had been desperately studying up on all things Wonderland-this method was much simpler, and much quicker, with quite satisfactory results. And though the story was one-sided, it was obvious as to where Lyss could gain other perspectives. The matter of reconnecting with those others, however, was a bit fuzzy.

"How long has the Rebellion been down here, Your Majesty?" Lyss asked.

The Queen sighed and glanced upwards. "Oh, _years_. I've lost count of the days. We've been trying to build up the strength to go back up, and that takes up most of the focus."

"You seem quite strong to me," Lyss replied.

"Appearances can be deceiving. We may have the numbers but we lack arms, as well as legs. Aid does not usually show up at our door half-drowned and violent." The Queen looked pointedly at Lyss, and Lyss felt herself blush just slightly, though she did not break the Queen's gaze. "It can be exceptionally difficult for supplies to reach the world underground."

"I would lay blame to the lake." Lyss smiled teasingly, and the Queen laughed.

"It is not the only way here, though it is the only working one. We've had water damage in that room already and always..." The Queen trailed off and stood. She walked over to the window, and Lyss turned in her seat to face the Queen, an idea already turning over in her mind.

The Queen ran a finger along the sill of the window, inspecting it for dust and continuing her train of thought. "...It is crucial that we find a way out, and a way to bring down the lady. This land has suffered enough. We must heal."

She turned to Lyss, "And you, my child, are the one who will get us to that place."

Lyss stood and looked at the Queen. "Where do we start?"

The Queen grinned, "I was thinking the room with the mirror that leads to the lake."

Lyss joined the Queen at the window, "I'll need to know about all of the other passages, as well. Even though they don't work."

The Queen arched an eyebrow, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Lyss said. "If I am to plan your rebellion, I am going to need to know absolutely everything."

The Queen nodded her head at Lyss, "Of course. I will send someone to fetch you later for dinner, and after that we can discuss plans. Have a pleasant rest of your afternoon, my dear." Lyss curtsied swiftly and the Queen departed her chambers.

Lyss walked to her bed and sank into it, resting her elbows on her knees and resting her head in her hands. She sighed, closed her eyes, and processed all she had learned. She was surprised at how intrinsically the history of Alice was tied to the history of Wonderland-she had expected the influence each had on the other to come and go in infrequent waves, but instead, they were tied and knotted together in a bundle and nearly inseparable. And with the deterioration of Alice came the deterioration of Wonderland. Lyss shuddered at the thought of the dead woman she had once seen being taken and tortured, for Lyss had a suspicion that torture practices in Wonderland held a certain amount of unregulated brutality. She must truly have become a woman gone mad-death would have been a joy.

Lyss opened her eyes and immediately looked straight at the Hatter's hat. She picked it up and set it in her lap, wrapped her arms around it, and gently rested her cheek on the top, the felt both supportive and soft.

"You should have told me," she mumbled into the brilliant green. "I shouldn't have heard that from a near stranger." Lyss frowned. She didn't know why she was talking out loud. It was completely pointless-no one, especially the person who should have been there listening, could hear her.

But he was in jail, or so she suspected, and Lyss knew that as soon as she made her way back to the upper lands, she was going to be making a journey to the Outskirts.

She was certain that was where her friend was, and she would be damned if she was just going to leave him there.

Lyss noticed the gloves still resting against the window sill, and she grabbed them and slipped them on, returning her attention to the hat. She flipped it over, so that the head hole was facing upwards, and she shoved her arm in and thought hard. She first thought of a cup of tea, and as with the first time she'd tried it, a cup appeared. Lyss pulled it out and set it aside. She thought of scones, and a tiny tray with three perfect scones materialized; Lyss set these near the tea. Next, she tried hair ribbons, but was met with nothing. The hat apparently did not produce the objects out of nothing.

Finally, she thought about the heavy tome that the Hatter had hastily dropped into the hat when they had last seen each other. This proved difficult, as time and more than one traumatic event had occurred since Lyss had last seen the book, and her memory of its appearance was fuzzy. At first nothing happened, and as she focused more, she could feel the tough leather binding brush past her fingers and feel a soft breeze of pages turning, but was unable to grasp it.

Using all of her focus, Lyss tried to recall minute details of the book: the pages she had seen, the place she had found it, the circles and ramblings of text that covered everything. At last, enough of the book appeared so that she could grip it and tug it out, though the book resisted. With one foot and one hand braced against the foot of her bed, Lyss pulled and pulled and pulled until the book gave. The momentum flung Lyss onto her back, the book landing heavily on her stomach. For a moment, the wind was knocked out of her, and she paused to catch her breath before moving the book off of her. She stood and picked the book up, dropping it onto her bed. She arranged the pillows comfortably and settled in for an afternoon of studying.

After all, if she was going to find a way to get back up to Wonderland, Lyss was going to have to figure out the secrets of door and mirror travel, and the book, and intimate knowledge of its author, were the only way to achieve that.

Lyss sighed. She had so hoped that after all this time she would be done with studying the ways of Wonderland.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note: I know. I know. It's been nearly a year. But as I've always said, I fully intend to finish this story, no matter how long it takes. Thanks to those who have made it this far, and thanks to those who continue to read and invest their time into my silly little story. I appreciate you beyond what I can say. Much love; enjoy and happy reading!_

* * *

><p>"Presume not that I am the thing that I was."<p>

-Shakespeare

* * *

><p>She met him on accident. She hadn't meant to walk in on his tea party-that would be rude, after all-but that was where she stumbled into, and she was tired and hungry so she sat down and started eating without being invited.<br>She did not see him until she was halfway through with her second scone.  
>He was on the other side of the table and slowly making his way, chair by chair, to her side, pausing to sip from a teacup every so often.<br>She watched him, fascinated. His eyes were fixed upon her, unwavering.  
>He sat in the chair next to her.<br>"Hello," she said.  
>"Hello, my dear."<br>She frowned, "Who are you?"  
>"People call me Hatter, and you may do the same."<br>What an unusual name. "It's nice to meet you, Hatter. I'm Alice," she said.  
>His grin widened, "I know."<br>She wondered if she should be afraid of him, but she found that she was not, and so she continued to take her tea and watch him.

* * *

><p>The next day, Lyss found herself staring up at a huge, damp, and slightly moldy hole in the ceiling of the room linking Wonderland with the world underground. Standing next to her was Caterpillar, and seated in a corner taking notes was an engineer. Lyss had the book tucked tightly under her arm.<br>Caterpillar coughed quietly, "If you would just let me take one look-"  
>"No," Lyss insisted.<br>"But this would go by so much-"  
>"No."<br>"But it would-"  
>"No!" Lyss said, moving her other arm protectively near the book. "And before you come up with your next excuse, no. And for the one after that-no."<br>Caterpillar huffed, "We've been in this forsaken room for at least an hour already!"  
>"And we'll remain in this room until someone comes up with an idea!"<br>"We have no ideas!"  
>"Yet."<br>"Oh, for goodne-"  
>"You forget, Caterpillar, that an hour is comparatively little time in the grand scale of things. I would much rather that we sit here and ponder until we come up with the best possible ideas than rush into something woefully underprepared. Certainly you cannot disagree with that, now, can you?"<br>Caterpillar rolled his eyes, "I most certainly do not, but you misunderstand me. I am simply saying that if you allow others besides yourself to at least look at the book, we may stumble upon that great idea at a faster rate."  
>Lyss opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by Caterpillar. "And don't you dare say we have plenty of time when you know we very well haven't. You don't know what's going on up there. Who's been hurt. Who's in danger. If the tyranny of the Queen has worsened."<br>"Speaking of tyranny, I've been meaning to ask. What exactly are the Queen's crimes?"  
>"Which one?" the engineer muttered under his breath, the first speech he'd offered all morning.<br>"What did you say?" asked Caterpillar.  
>"Oh, nothing."<br>"Perhaps it would be best if you left us alone for a spell, good sir. Go find some lunch or nap or something." Caterpillar said to the engineer, indicating the door. Taking the hint, the engineer rose from his seat and left the two on their own. Rather than slamming the door shut behind him, as Lyss expected he might do, the engineer took care to ensure that there was minimal noise impact; he was as quiet as a leaf on the wind.  
>"I cannot speak to any of her more recent crimes," Caterpillar began, "but I imagine they have remained more or less similar to what they were when we fled so many years ago."<br>Lyss set the book down on a side table and stood, arms clasped behind her back, resting on the bustle of her dress. "Go on."  
>"Wonderland laws are written...peculiarly. I should know, for I helped create a great many of them. And there is one law in particular that she has willfully misinterpreted."<br>"And?"  
>"And it's the reason we fled. We were scared we might be next."<br>"What is this law?"  
>Caterpillar sighed, "It's going to sound very strange to you, given that you aren't from around here."<br>"I've dealt with my share of strangeness. I can handle it."  
>"Very well. There is a law, one that has been here since the beginning of Wonderland itself, it seems, that states that in royal court, anyone whom the reigning monarch wishes to be removed from the scene for any reason must state 'Off with his head!' or 'Off with her head!' or 'Off with that ambiguously gendered person or animal's head!' and so on and so forth. But this law was never supposed to be used for any real removal of heads. It's just an expression. The royalty say it all the time. No one ever loses their heads-at least not in a literal sense of the phrase."<br>"I think you might have been correct. That's very strange indeed."  
>"It's more like...like an emergency phrase! Yes! And when it is used, security and guards come out and escort the person off the premises. Does that make more sense?"<br>Lyss did not think it did, but she shrugged and nodded in accord anyway.  
>"This law has proved to be problematic, to say the least. There are occasional periods in Wonderland's history where this law had a more literal interpretation. And during the reign of Petunia Heart, it was used to avoid giving fair trials. We simply gave out the sentence before the verdict. Many of those sentences are still being carried out today. Perhaps unfairly, in a few cases."<br>"So the Queen has executed people? Is that what you're getting at?"  
>Caterpillar nodded. "Yes. But it's worse. It's practically genocide. In the first three days of her reign, she beheaded one hundred citizens for crimes that were never proven, and certainly never worthy of a beheading."<br>An image of Fury Mouse's head rolling on a wooden platform appeared in Lyss' mind. She shivered. The memory of what she'd seen was still present with her.  
>"But it's not like the Queen wouldn't have known about the law. She's a Wonderlandian. We all know what the law is supposed to mean. We're just terrible at stating it in plain language."<br>"Don't worry. Most governments lack that skill."  
>Caterpillar smiled slightly. He looked lost in his memory, like he was swimming in an ocean with no help in sight.<br>"It's so strange," he whispered, to himself, though Lyss could still hear him. "It's almost like she's not from here." He trailed off, muttering something about "impossible to misinterpret", and Lyss wondered just how personally affected by the Queen's actions Caterpillar was.  
>And though it was obvious to her as to why the current Queen needed to be overthrown, Lyss knew that the old Queen had been replaced for a reason, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it might be for the best if she did not make a return to the throne.<br>"We'll put a stop to her soon. I promise," Lyss said. Caterpillar nodded slowly, still lost in his own world, and Lyss patted him on the shoulder. "Now," she said, turning to her book, "what exactly was it that you were proposing earlier?"  
>Caterpillar cleared his throat, "Right. I was saying that this particular door is rather interesting, given that things-" he paused, eyeing Lyss for a moment, "-can clearly come through to this side, no problem, and yet nothing appears to be able to go back into the lake."<br>"Could it be because of the water? Does water prevent travel?"  
>"Generally, no, but perhaps the water pressure has something to do with it. Maybe there's too much force upon it? The door IS in the ceiling, after all. All the other water doors I've dealt with have been vertical, and it can be tricky, but travel is always possible."<br>"So it's too much downward pressure, then..." Lyss trailed off. "There's no way to drain the lake from this side, correct?"  
>"Absolutely not. The mechanics of that, I cannot even begin to imagine."<br>"Perhaps we ought to ask our engineering friend to return, then."  
>"Oh! Good idea."<br>Caterpillar cracked open the door of the room, and peered out, looking both ways before calling out for the man. Some moments later, the man appeared, now sporting a cheery red smear nestled into the corner of his mouth.  
>"Catsup?" Lyss asked.<br>"Who's up?" the engineer replied.  
>Lyss waved him off, "Never mind."<br>"Lyss wanted to know if it would be at all possible to drain the lake from our side of the mirror. So...would it?" Caterpillar asked.  
>The engineer stared at the ceiling and circled the room. He kept his eyes focused on a central point, never glancing away from it, as a hawk does its prey. The man hummed to himself after circling about five times, and then reversed his circle, still staring right at the center of the ceiling. Without warning, he stopped.<br>"Well?" Caterpillar asked.  
>Lyss was thoroughly confused. She'd never before seen anyone solve any sort of problems or calculations just by literal circumvention of the issue.<br>"Don't seem too likely, but we could give it a shot. Might blow up the entire underground though. And then we'd all be in a pickle."  
>"I think pickles would be the least of our problems, my good man," said Caterpillar.<br>"Right-ho. You make a fair point."  
>Ignoring the two men, Lyss returned to her book. There had to have been something she was missing-perhaps something in the rune-like language that neither she nor Caterpillar had been able to decipher (granted, she'd hardly let Caterpillar glance at the text before closing it shut and declaring that he wouldn't get to look at the book anymore and that she would be the sole viewer and interpreter of the Hatter's text). There was something, hidden deep in Hatter's uninterpretable subtext, that she just hadn't picked up on yet, and Lyss was determined to find answers, with a zeal that she'd not possessed before. Lyss was a woman on a mission, and she would take no prisoners in her quest.<br>Lyss lifted the heavy tome with a grunt, laying it open in her arms. She walked in a steady circle around the center of the room, five times, just as the engineer had done. If he could circulate the issue, then she ought to be able to circumnavigate just as well.  
>"What are you doing?" asked Caterpillar.<br>"Just trying something out," Lyss answered. She expected nothing to come of her action, though she figured it wouldn't hurt to at least take a shot at trying.  
>"You're doing it all wrong," the engineer said.<br>"Hush," said Lyss.  
>She reversed her circle. Nothing happened.<br>"Told you."  
>"Oh, be quiet. If you've nothing helpful to say you might as well leave again," Lyss said. "You've offered up hardly anything useful."<br>"That's because you're forcing me to stand in a room and speculate, rather than actually make an informed decision about potential, realistic routes we may be able to take."  
>Lyss looked between the engineer and Caterpillar. "Fine," she said. "I suppose looking at the book may be of some use to you."<br>"Finally," muttered Caterpillar.  
>The trio gathered around a table, pushed against one of the walls, and Lyss gently set down the book. With reverence, she turned back a few pages, handling the pages as though they were made of porcelain.<br>"Try not to touch it," she said. "Most of the pages are of good quality, but a few here and there are as brittle as snake skin."  
>The engineer frowned, "All the snakes I used to know seemed to have pretty thick skin."<br>"Once it's shed, I mean."  
>The engineer regarded Lyss for a moment, then shook his head. "You Northerners are a strange lot."<br>"Funny. I could say the same for everyone down here."  
>"Do let's stop arguing and start figuring this impossibility out," Caterpillar interrupted.<br>"I agree. We've been discussing this for far too long. The pacing's all thrown," the engineer said.  
>Lyss furrowed her brow and bent closer to the book. "See, this right here," she pointed to a drawing, "shows how the doors work." She flipped a few pages. "But I've found nothing at all in here that actually indicates how they're built to do that. It's like they just spring up from nothing and magically have the mechanics in place to allow passage."<br>"I'm certain there's some sort of science behind it," said the engineer. "It would be damn near impossible!"  
>"Have you ever met the Hatter?" Lyss asked him.<br>"I don't believe I have, no."  
>"I can tell."<br>"How so?"  
>"Nothing is impossible when it comes to him," Lyss said with a small smile. She looked down, still smiling to herself, but not before she caught Caterpillar's curious eye. Instinctively, she tried to hide her face.<br>"Anyway," Caterpillar said, "do we absolutely need to understand how they're built? Or could we just figure out some way around it?"  
>"It'd be much easier if we knew. Could really get into the entire aspect of the mirror. Deconstruct it, see how it ticks. You know."<br>"Or build a new one," Lyss said. She flipped a few pages, not realizing that the men at her side had grown pointedly quiet. "Nothing in here on that though, so-"  
>"Hang on." The engineer held up a finger. "That's it. Brilliant."<br>Lyss took a step back and glanced between the engineer and Caterpillar. "What is?"  
>"You aren't proposing?"<br>"Of course I am!"  
>"But how-"<br>"We'll figure it out."  
>"I'm so confused right now."<br>The engineer turned to Lyss, "We're going to build a new door."  
>"Which is impossible," Caterpillar said. "There's not been a single record of a new door appearing in Wonderland since the very beginning. The same time ALL the doors were created, may I add. And the mirrors. It's impossible."<br>"According to this lass, nothing's impossible."  
>"I don't think I had fully considered the implications of that phrase until now, sir!"<br>"Well that's the plan and we're sticking to it! Now, I'm going to go grab some stovies and a bridie and rest up for a few good days. You," he said, pointing to Lyss, "go study all that you can on these blasted things and report back to me. And you," he pointed to Caterpillar this time, "try not to interfere and get in her way too much." And with that, the engineer stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
>"Interesting fellow, that man," Lyss said.<br>Caterpillar only sighed in response. He turned so that his back was to the table, and leaned against it. Lyss mimicked his posture, and the two of them stared at the ceiling. Lyss noticed the ripples and waves floating across the surface of the giant mirror suspended above them-it somehow gave the appearance of both being the ceiling and not being the ceiling; the Schrodinger's cat of Wonderland, though the evidence was plain in front of them, and not hidden by a box. Only in Wonderland could such an object be two things at once, Lyss thought. She watched as water leaked out from the edges of the mirror, slowly trailing down the corners of the room. It gave the room the impression of a sculptural fountain, though the yellowing marks of water damage indicated that this had never been the true intention.  
>The center of the mirror shimmered, and Lyss watched as the random ripples and waves on the surface of the mirror swirled together in an eddy before spilling open to drop an unsuspecting fish into the room. Lyss jumped and screamed, scrambling back on top of the table as she glanced over the room for signs of water and found none. Caterpillar only sighed and made his way over to the fish. It was flopping like a mad thing, and Lyss could see its gills flexing as it struggled to find air-fighting a losing battle for life. She watched the mirror returned to its usual state as Caterpillar caught the fish and clamped his hands around its gills, suffocating it. The fish flinched a few times, and then it went still.<br>"Sorry," Caterpillar said, "it's the easiest way to put it out of its misery."  
>Lyss nodded. "Does that happen often?"<br>"It's proven to be a useful way to supplement our diet down here."  
>Lyss watched as Caterpillar opened a hatch in the far wall and slid the fish into it. Some sort of system to reach the kitchen, she suspected. "Did you...did you try to...do that...to me?" she asked.<br>"I did not try to kill you, if that's what you're asking," Caterpillar said. "It was fairly obvious to me early on that you were more useful alive than dead, regardless of where your allegiances lay."  
>Lyss nodded. His words were little assurance, for she could not help but think that the fish might have been her.<br>"I think I'll go retire to my room for the day."  
>"If you want to do something, you shouldn't just think it. You should do it."<br>Lyss sighed, "Right." She picked up the book and wedged it underneath her arm as she left Caterpillar and the strange portal between worlds behind her.

* * *

><p>She'd meant to study as soon as she got back to her room.<br>She didn't.  
>Instead, Lyss found herself lying on the bed, clutching a pillow, and reminding herself that she could breathe-that she was breathing, that she was okay, and that she had survived what countless fish could not.<br>It was little comfort.  
>Someone knocked on her door at one point, but she did not move to answer it, nor did she call out, and though they knocked one other time shortly after the first, she did not hear anything for the rest of the day.<br>Lyss was not sure why she had reacted so poorly to the scene she witnessed. Perhaps it was because she'd never seen what exactly mirror travel was like from an outside perspective. Yes. That had to be it.  
>Except no, that wasn't it at all.<br>Perhaps it was because she did not want to admit just how scarring the events of that evening were to her-the sudden piecing together of so many puzzle pieces, the approaching army, nearly drowning...  
>And Hatter.<br>As much as she did not want to think about him, she sure seemed to spend a lot of her time doing exactly that.  
>She flipped onto her side and curled into the fetal position, her head buried in her pillows. The Hatter's hat stood on her nightstand, on the other side of the bed, and she stretched her arm across the bed towards it. She could not reach it without giving in to moving a little.<br>"You better appreciate all I do for you," she muttered as she grabbed the hat and fell back onto the bed. She turned it a few times before reaching in and waving her hand about; Lyss wasn't thinking of anything in particular, and so she was surprised when something landed in her hand. It was small, and lightweight, and when she pulled her arm away, she discovered a small scrap of paper, torn from part of a newspaper. The print had faded, but the note on top of it, written in a hasty, swooping manner, was clear. It read: blueberry scones, lemon tea, love; and underneath this list, the words 'for trying times' appeared.  
>Lyss shrugged and reached into the hat, thinking of blueberry scones. They, along with a cup of lemon tea a few moments later, appeared in her hand, and she set the hat aside to eat what she'd pulled from it. She'd not realized how hungry she was, and Lyss would be lying if she did not admit that there was something about a good scone and a hot cup of tea that was comforting. Lyss ate in bed, simply for the reason that she could not remember the last time she treated herself in such a way. The meal was like warm sunshine on cold skin.<br>When she was done, she pulled the hat over and adhered to its last suggestion: she thought about love. A feather-light wisp of silken fabric cradled itself in her hand almost instantaneously, and she discovered that she'd found a handkerchief. It was embroidered along the edges with orange and green and purple stitching. In the corner were a couple of initials, though the 'H' was the only discernible letter-the stitching was so elaborate and fancy that Lyss could hardly read it. She laughed, and held it to her eye. Tears that were just at the cusp of being shed dampened the fabric. Lyss set the handkerchief down to dry, and then got out of bed and went to her desk.  
>She felt ready to learn some of the secrets Hatter was hiding.<br>"Okay," she said aloud, "you've made it easy enough to figure out how this stuff works. The question is, did you ever bother to write down what makes them do that?" Lyss flipped a few pages, "Of course, it would be logical to put such information at the beginning of the book, but then again, you don't quite operate in the realm of reality..." Lyss trailed off, and sat back in her chair. If it wasn't at the beginning-he wouldn't put it at the end, would he? But then, Hatter was one to forget such technicalities at first, and in a fallible way, it made sense that Hatter would come back at a later date and add information in. She shook her head, unsure if she should be proud that she knew Hatter well enough to make such educated guesses, or if she should be really very concerned that she knew Hatter well enough to make such educated guesses.  
>Currently, she was leaning towards the latter.<br>She flipped the book to the back cover regardless, and turned the pages from left to right, searching for that elusive bit of information that escaped all of the technical drawings and explanations at the book's beginning. Many pages were blank, save for the occasional drawing here and there: an eye, a hand, crossed ankles, supple lips. Two lines of three stars, perpendicular, in the shape of a cross.  
>"It has to be in here somewhere," Lyss muttered. "There's no way he's got it stored in just his brain. He'd forget it. He'd remember it for an hour and then get distracted by tea or the color blue or something shiny, or, heaven forbid, shiny blue tea, and it'd be lost forever."<br>She turned another page, and came across some promising text, but after reading it, Lyss realized it was pure nonsense, and had nothing to do with what she was looking for.  
>"It would practically take twelve years to sort out all of this writing," she said. "And I don't have twelve years to wait."<br>Lyss glanced back at her bed, with the hat laying on its side, as if it were taking a nap, and she wondered.  
>"Hmmmm."<br>She retrieved the hat from its position, waking it up, and thought about the doors and the mirrors. Reaching into the hat, Lyss fully expected that her plan would work. The hat had yet to fail her, and she had come to regard it as a sort of failsafe-it would get her out of any situation in which she found herself. And so, when her hand closed around an object, Lyss smiled, pleased that the hat worked yet again. However, she pulled her arm out to reveal a small, clear, glass inkwell, filled with ink the color of the night sky, which was certainly not what she'd expected.  
>"What on earth...?"<br>She turned the bottle over in her hand a few times, checking to see if something was inscribed on or etched into the glass, but found nothing. She uncorked the top and tried sniffing the ink, but it only gave her a headache. Frustrated, she tossed the hat to the floor and slammed the bottle on her desk.  
>"What help you are!"<br>The force of the bottle hitting the desk caused a large splotch of ink to spill from the container, and it hit the book right in the crease.  
>"Oh!" Lyss said, as she hastened to find a napkin or towel to clean up the ink before it ruined the pages of the book. She grabbed the Hatter's handkerchief from her bed as soon as she remembered it, and rushed over to the book.<br>The ink was gone.  
>"How...?"<br>As she watched, bits of dark ink started to materialize on the right side of the page, forming letters and words and perhaps, eventually, sentences.  
>Lyss slumped in her chair, "Invisible ink. He used invisible ink." Yet the ink she'd found was clearly not of the invisible variety; rather, it seemed to be revealing ink. Ink that one might use in order to reveal that which was hitherto hidden to the naked eye. As she watched, the revealed writings slowly faded away into the pages, leaving no indicator that they had ever been there at all. She ran her fingers over the blank spaces where the ink had been, and found them to be smooth and dry, just like it had been before the ink spilt. Lyss snatched a small calligraphy brush from a container on the desk, and dipped it into the ink. Carefully, she let a single drop of ink fall onto the page in the top right corner. She watched as the ink spread and seemed to fill in minuscule crevices to reveal a hidden symbol. An inky top hat appeared where she'd marked the page; Lyss wondered if there were any other symbols on other pages. She flipped over one page and did the same to the right corner, this time exposing an image of a teacup. So there were different symbols, perhaps indicating different hidden texts. Lyss was curious if a door might be one of those symbols.<br>She separated several of the next pages between her fingers and blotted each one with a drop of ink. Each of the next ones were all of the teacup, and so she did the same with the pages towards the beginning of the book; all were top hats. She tried the very last page of the book, only to find that nothing at all was hidden there. Next, she marked the pages that already had text about the doors and mirrors on them-still nothing.  
>She sighed. A singular needle in a haystack would be easier to find.<br>"This is pointless!" she said, slamming the book cover shut. "There's too many pages!", which was a statement she had never before used when discussing a book. "Why is nothing ever easy here?"  
>She grumbled a bit more, and then resigned herself to trying again, this time in the exact middle of the book. Nothing happened, so she flipped to the pages she'd found the symbols on before. Lyss looked for some sort of pattern, an indicator, that she would find certain symbols on certain pages. All she could tell was that pages with top hats had already visible runes, and pages with teacups had little fragments of sentences scrawled onto them.<br>Then she had an idea.  
>She flipped until she found one of the pages with the drawings on them, and tried her testing method on those.<br>When the rectangle appeared, her hopes were renewed, and she was downright gleeful when details began filling in: a small dot for a handle, little hinges, and black panel detailing.  
>Lyss finally found what she was looking for. Like a scientist stumbling upon a great new discovery, Lyss eagerly set to work with brushing the page with her revealing ink. She was careful to avoid the drawing Hatter had put onto the page however long ago, for fear of what the ink might do to it, but her brush was fine enough that she had no real problem with it. As she swept across the page, words and images appeared, floating to the surface like bits of detached kelp in the ocean. With a sigh of relief, Lyss noted that everything thus far appeared to be written in English; however, she had difficulty in reading everything, as the ink kept sinking back into the pages, visibly lost until she brushed over them again. She could not keep up with the constant rate of appearing and vanishing that the words were doing; the concepts within the words were too grandiose for her to comprehend them quickly. Lyss huffed, sat back in her chair, and crossed her arms-she was frustrated; her progress seemed like nothing in comparison to her current problem. She thought about asking Caterpillar for his advice, but then thought better of it. She didn't need him, nor was she entirely certain that she wanted him to know what she'd found so soon. Lyss had discovered, in the course of her time here, that she was much better off if she kept all of the cards in her hand. What was she to do? Was there a way to make the ink last longer?<br>Lyss recalled a class lecture she'd heard long ago, and remembered that the application of heat can change the effects of molecule chemistry. She glanced about her room, and her eyes fell upon a couple of candles. Perfect, she thought, and she lit them, moving them close to the book, and tried brushing the page yet again. The text lingered longer, but the heat of the candle was not strong enough, so she moved the candles on top of the book itself, gingerly handling the page and steadying her hand for fear of lighting the entire book on fire. She held her breath as she applying the ink to the page, and watched as the text appeared, wavered a bit between there and not there, and steadied into a sort of in-between state; it was not entirely there, but not completely faded, and the limbo was all that Lyss required to read what it said.  
>It was written in Hatter's script, that much she could tell by a cursory glance at the page. There were variants in the size, shape, and style of the text-tiny scrawls of cursive bumped up against large, all-caps letters, only to be dominated by thin, cramped writings. The text as a whole created a sort of maze, and Lyss was troubled with finding the starting point. What she had assumed was the beginning actually appeared to be the middle, and she wondered if this page in the book was like some sort of Rosetta Stone-was there some sort of code she was expected to break?<br>Lyss shook her head. She did not believe that the Hatter would have made it that complex. He would have made it just complex enough, just trying enough, that anyone who had made it this far would give up, even if the answer was staring them straight in the face. Hidden in plain sight, that was the route Lyss was certain her friend would take. He was not one for subtlety, but he was one for masquerade and dramatic effect. Hatter was something of a magician, and it was only logical that he would use smoke and mirrors to deter others from discovering certain truths.  
>Lyss took a deep breath. Did she really want to know those certain truths?<br>She released her breath through her mouth. Always.  
>The first line that appeared on the page read as follows: "whomsoever and whichsoever doth possesseth the stuff that I mentioned before-you know, the two things, not the one about the five, and definitely not the thing with the tap dancing spiders-and so but whatever you take those things and you sort of mash them in a squishy...sort of...mashy way, I suppose, and ba-BOOM and you wind up with this sort of glowy blue thing, I don't really know how to describe it, except to say that it'll be blue and it'll glow, and if it's not blue and it doesn't glow, you probably did it wrong, you stupide oafe, and now you're going to blow up the whole town, and it's all due to the fact that you are an imbecile of the highest degree, surpassed in intelligence by all, because I clearly told you exactly what to do and if you cannot follow a simple instruction really you are hopeless and at this point I doubt you can even start over from the beginning because in all likelihood you are dead and no longer reading this."<br>Lyss had to stop reading, for she was laughing so hard that tears spilled from her eyes. It was just so...him, and she laughed at the clarity of his voice in his writing, and the nonsense he spun.  
>When she calmed down, she began again with the next sentence: "For those of you who are not dead and are still actively-or passively, I'm sure in some cases-paying attention and making grand efforts to read this, I congratulate you on your austerity and wish you good fortune, but really, aren't you rather behind in the game? Surely by now most others would have gone out and obtained those two ingredients and practically figured the whole thing out by now. Are you sure you're as intelligent as you made yourself out to be? I expected more, dear reader. Gentle reader. Why do so many authors use that phrase? How are they to know whether I am dear or gentle or so on? It's rather assumptive of them. I can be fierce should the situation call for it and they would not think me so gentle as they believe me to be. Anyway. The glowy blue thing. It's glowing. It's blue. Congratulations, you've done quite well up to this point. You are not done."<br>The text stopped there. Lyss crossed her arms, "You silly ass. You're so annoyingly non-sequitur." Lyss removed the candles from the page as a surgeon might handle her patient, and searched for another page with a drawing on it. This one had a hand, with a single band on the ring finger. Lyss set herself up, and settled down to continue her reading.  
>"Though the blood of a bandersnatch it difficult to obtain I would surely succeed in my mission. One of twelve, just as the mythic men of the past. Push boulders and perform labors. Second I would break out permanently and third I would prove to you that I'd never done anything wrong and fourth I would show you how nothing is possible without me. For my fifth I would paint every white rose red. Six-forge a bond for you and a bond for me. Seven I think I will make you your own blend of tea and you will have some every day and you will tell me what must be changed and what no longer suits your taste and I will make it right. Eighth eighth eighth eighth eighth eighth eighth eighth for nine I will harvest a star and for ten I will wrangle an ocean and for eleven I will build you a home with a garden and for my last one for number twelve I will find a way to bridge the gap between our worlds."<br>Lyss felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as she read. This seemed like something private, something she was not meant to see. Yet here she was, clever and uncomfortable in her cunning.  
>She flipped back a few pages, for it seemed that the information she wanted-the first half of Hatter's instructions-actually came in some sort of normal order. A page depicting a sketch about door travel seemed promising, less personal, and Lyss began her work again. The results were instant, and in line with what she was looking for. Lyss smiled to herself as she read and uncovered:<br>"but have you ever seen a spider tap dance? Unsettling and unusual, that I promise. I cannot even begin to describe it so therefore I shan't and we continue on. Consumption of Drink Me ONLY THE RAINBOW KIND and the hat for it is already a portal and possesses portal-creating abilities if you think of the right things. I will not tell you those things and certainly once you have the door, if you ever do manage to get it, you can figure things out for yourself from there. Thoughts are powerful. Use them appropriately and make sure they're taking you where you really want to go."  
>Lyss watched as the ink faded back into the book, with no trace that it was ever there. She sighed. This was absolute nonsense.<br>Drink Me had to be that unusual tea the Hare had given her so long ago. Was it still viable if she'd not drunk it recently? Lyss stood and snatched up the hat, plunging her hand in and thinking of everything she possibly could-doors, teacups, hats, portals. Her hand waved in vain, trying to capture something, anything, between her fingers. Mash them together, he had said. Blue glowy thing-this was the last time she would ever take instructions from a mad man! She wondered what the blue glowy thing might be. Such a description was so vague and unclear; it could be anything. A flame, perhaps, or a strange lantern, or-  
>Something shot out of the hat and smacked into Lyss' face. She fell backwards on the floor, disoriented. Slowly, she righted herself, rubbing her forehead. It felt warm, but not with fever. Lyss looked up and saw, floating a few feet above her, a blue...glowy...thing.<br>"My goodness," she whispered, "he was right."


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: A long time coming, I know. This story is nearly over-likely fewer than ten chapters remain. My sincerest thanks to those who have stuck with me so far, and those who continue to discover this silly little story today. We're almost there. Please read and enjoy; let me know what you thought, if you are so inclined.  
><em>

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><p>"Nobody is stronger, nobody is weaker than someone who came back. There is nothing you can do to such a person because whatever you could do is less than what has already been done to him. We have already paid the price."<p>

-Elie Wiesel

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><p>Lyss rubbed her eyes, making sure that the glowing orb in front of her was indeed real. She sat up, her voluminous skirts pooling around her, and removed Hatter's gloves; she stretched her bare fingertips up towards the light, barely scraping the edges of it with her fingertips. At her touch, the light darted upwards, knocking into the ceiling and crashing down just as quickly. Lyss had the good sense to shimmy out of the way of the light, which was now behaving like a wild boomerang with no return destination in mind. The light cut about the room, zooming by at such a speed as to register a high-pitched zipping sound as it flew through the air generating its own wind. Unsure of what to do, Lyss curled over on herself and covered her neck with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut in the hopes that the zipping and crashing would soon cease.<p>

_Couldn't have bloody well mentioned this part, could he_, she thought as she cowered. She risked a cursory glance about the room, and was thankful to find that she'd rolled herself near the door. When the blue orb was occupied on the other side of the room, Lyss made her move and rolled herself rightways, positioning herself at the entry. She lunged up for the brass knob, in a less graceful manner than she would have liked, and twisting it, fell out into the hallway. Before she could reposition herself and slam the door behind her, panting from the euphoric rush of adrenaline, the orb zipped right above her head, upsetting Lyss' blonde curls and darting into the palace.

"Oh, hell," Lyss said as she stood up, peering after the mysterious light. She took but a moment to catch her breath, and then, skirts and hat in hand, she set off in the opposite direction of the light, yelling for Caterpillar. His reply came, but was muffled; Lyss couldn't quite make out what it was that he'd said. Again, she yelled, and again, she could not hear him. From behind her, she heard the zipping of the blue light as it ricocheted off the walls. It was getting louder, closer. Lyss risked a glance behind her and saw it hovering near the ceiling, headed her way.

"CATERPILLAR!" she screamed again, ducking her head lest the light zoom past her.

Caterpillar appeared from around the bend, hookah bowl in hand. "Bloody hell, woman, what is it that you-"

Lyss grabbed the bowl from him and spun around, holding it in front of her face like a shield. The light zoomed into the bowl and paused for just a moment; Lyss slammed her hand down on top of it, holding the light in place. She struggled with it, dropping to the floor as the light squirmed between her fingers. It was like the light was made out of living gelatin-that same slimy texture pushed upward, trying to escape. "A lid. Does this damn thing have a lid?" Lyss asked Caterpillar.

"I'll be back," he said, darting into one of the many rooms lining the hallway. Moments later, he reappeared with a heavy glass dome.

"Careful now," Lyss said as Caterpillar positioned the dome above her hands.

"I won't crush you," Caterpillar said. He glanced at Lyss and she nodded. "On my count. One, two, three!"

Caterpillar dropped the dome as Lyss whisked her hands away from the light. It landed with a thud, muffled against the rug on the floor. With her hands curled against her chest, Lyss leaned forward to study the trapped light. It struggled for a few moments, tapping the dome, until it finally gave up and settled into the bowl as if it had fallen asleep.

"Now what?" asked Caterpillar.

Lyss stood and dusted off her skirts. "Now we build ourselves a portal."

"Just one portal?" Caterpillar asked. "Surely we can be more efficient than that." He tapped the glass, studying the light. "Is there a way to get another one of these things?"

"I'm not sure," Lyss said. "I don't think there is."

"What if we split it?" he asked.

"If you don't mind, may I ask why you want to?"

"Think practically, my dear. We can't get an entire army out of here and back into Wonderland without serious risk. They'll know and they'll stop it. We need more than one way out." Caterpillar reached for Lyss' hand, turning it over to show the glove she clutched in it. "Besides," he continued, "I have a feeling that we have very different ideas for where we want to go."

Lyss stared at the glove. "You know about that?"

"Just the barest of details. Most of it I've guessed."

Lyss nodded, knowing that she'd just confirmed any suspicions Caterpillar might have about her and the Hatter. "I need him," she said. "I can't do this without him."

Caterpillar nodded at her, "It's called The Dark Place. Just so you know."

She smiled, wondering when her contentious relationship with Caterpillar had reached this point of understanding. Lyss gestured to the light.

"So, how do we do this?" she asked.

"Put on the gloves. I think you should be able to handle it just fine with those on."

Lyss slipped the Hatter's gloves back onto her hands, the familiar silk sliding on effortlessly. Caterpillar held the edges of the glass bowl, and after a nod from Lyss, he lifted it just enough to allow Lyss' hands to slip underneath and grasp the light. It was warm to the touch, pleasantly so, and the warmth spread throughout her body. Aches and pains from her last lingering wounds and sleepless nights disappeared as she held it. She'd have stayed there forever, basking and healing in the glow of the light, but Caterpillar not-so-subtly coughed; it broke her trance, and she returned to her work. She pressed against the light, watching it shift around her into two distinct sections. She pulled the light away from itself, urging the sections to break apart. Like taffy, it clung to its attachment down to the last minuscule thread before finally releasing. Lyss pulled one half out quickly as Caterpillar trapped the other half in the bowl before it could dart away. She pressed the light against her core, though it did not struggle in her hands.

"Take me to a place I can use this," she told Caterpillar. He helped her to her feet before pulling her quickly through the halls-somehow, it felt like they were running out of time.

Several twists and turns later, Caterpillar stopped, yanking open a door and ushering Lyss inside. It was a sparse room, with nothing but a desk and a chair inside.

"That wall, over there," Caterpillar said, pointing to the wall opposite the desk. "I'll start mobilizing our people here while you get anyone who's left over there. In one week's time, we'll begin traveling over. Is there any place that's safe to go?"

Lyss thought quickly, her mind working in a panic. "The library. And Hatter's house. Build your portals there. Just get everyone through."

Caterpillar placed his hands on Lyss' shoulders. "Good luck, Miss Alice."

Lyss nodded, not bothering to correct him. She knew she wasn't Alice, but if Alice was who these people needed, then Alice she could be.

Lyss turned to the wall, the light in her hands cradled against her. Cupped between her palms, she pressed the light against the wall, smoothing it out as it became a liquid solid. It molded to her touch, and she thought of where she wanted to go: The Dark Place, an orange coat, a man with wild white hair and violet eyes. The light turned more and more solid, becoming more and more like a mirror with each passing second. _The Dark Place, The Dark Place, just bring me to him, please_. The mirror shimmered, and Lyss felt the gloves on her hand burning up, ready to pass through.

"I'll see you later," Lyss said to Caterpillar.

"I believe in you," he said, handing her the Hatter's hat.

Lyss reached her hand out, stretching the fingers to the very edge of the mirror, terrified of failing. When she met no resistance, she kept pressing forward, watching her hand melt into the mirror as if it were splashing into water. Her entire arm went through the mirror, and she dipped her head forward, making contact with its surface. When it did, she felt her entire body whoosh in, sucked into the mirror. She was suspended somewhere between below and above, floating, and then she was spat out onto cold stone in a dark room, scraping her cheek against the floor and jamming her wrist.

Lyss blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness-only one small window high above her gave any light, and it was nightfall. Moonlight shone through, but as far as she could tell, she was alone. Had she miscalculated? Was the Hatter safe in his home, or out somewhere else entirely? The mirror shimmered behind her, dull and blending with its surroundings.

"Hatter?" Lyss whispered, not daring to attract the attention of anyone she didn't want to see her. "Are you in here?"

Something shifted in the darkness, and a shadow detached from the wall, crawling towards her. It grabbed her, dragging her across the floor. Every step she took sent a shooting electric pain up her body; it burst through her ankles and spread up her legs into her spine. She screamed-it was like being shocked afresh with every movement. The shadow tossed Lyss into the patch of moonlight, her body throbbing with the residual effects of her painful walk. She looked up, and finally, Lyss could see-the face was dirty and worn and restless, but it was her Hatter.

"Stop coming here," he gritted through clenched teeth. "I told you to stop." He stood stock still now, his fights tight at his sides-the Hatter, too, felt the same physical pain, and perhaps some mental ones, too.

Lyss stood, wincing as she did. "Hatter, I haven't been here. I've been gone."

"Stop," he said, pressing his hands to his ears. "Stop making that noise!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I SAID STOP!" he screamed before his speech devolved into wordless noise. He collapsed on the ground, pulling at his dull hair with bare hands.

"Hatter!" Lyss ran to him, ignoring the pain of moving on this horrible floor, tugging at his shirtsleeves until he stood.

"Worse with you here you're not real you're not here," he muttered.

"Hatter, please, we have to go," Lyss begged.

"Can't go can't go they'll get me this is just what they want."

Hatter's eyes bugged out as he stared through Lyss. She risked a glance behind her, wondering if something was there, but nothing was, and his gaze wouldn't break. "You're working for them, aren't you?"

"Hatter, stop!" Lyss grabbed his face with her hands, rubbing her gloved thumbs against his cheeks. He visibly relaxed, and Lyss saw something shift in his eyes, like he was coming back to himself.

"Lyss?"

"Yes, yes, it's me, now please, we must go, Hatter!"

The Hatter nodded slowly, then took Lyss' hand. He scanned the room, as if he were seeing it for the first time. He ran to the edge of the room, grunting as he dealt with the same barrage of pain that Lyss was working through. Hatter kicked down the old wooden door, banging at it with his fists. Lyss took out one of her hairpins and set to work fidgeting with the lock while the Hatter beat at the wood. Solid thunks filled the room, echoing around the circular space. It was difficult for Lyss to hear the subtle click of the lock; at first, she thought she imagined it, but when she tried the handle, the door burst open. Hatter, mid-kick, sailed through the door, and Lyss scrambled to catch up to him.

Together he and Lyss ran down the stairs-the pain was so prevalent that Lyss was almost able to ignore it as something that was normal. This was what walking had always felt like, she told herself. The pain was always there. They burst out the doors at the bottom of the staircase, and though an alarm sounded, they continued to run; their steps on the snowy white ground no longer caused them pain. The blare of the alarm burned red in the quiet night. Lyss' heartbeat pounded in her chest and pulsated in her throat. She gasped for the crisp air of the cool night, grateful for the Hatter's tight grip. Though the ground no longer hurt her, the dull ache of being shocked throbbed inside of her; she was already sore and pained from the ordeal of a few minutes inside of the Dark Place. She could only imagine what the Hatter had gone through in the days since she'd last seen him.

The Hatter kept running until they made it to a run-down train station-Lyss paused to reflect that he'd known exactly where to go. There was no posting of any departure time, but a train was there waiting, and the Hatter nearly threw Lyss inside of one of the rear cars in his effort to get inside. Lyss rolled over to the far end of the compartment as the Hatter slammed the door shut, sealing the two of them inside. Lyss lay on her back, breathing heavily. Every last joint in her body hurt and throbbed-she would be battered and bruised in the morning. She took the hat off her head, shoved her hand in, and pulled out her gun.

"Just in case," she said. The hat she rolled over to the Hatter; the gun she kept to herself. The Hatter nodded but said nothing, choosing to stay on the far side of the car from her. Lyss tried to pretend that she wasn't hurt by it, and curled to her side to try to rest.

She woke up some time later, the train now in motion. The Hatter stood over her, shaking her.

"This is our stop. Safe house nearby."

"How do you know?"

"Used it before once. Come on."

The Hatter pulled Lyss to her feet and walked her to the car's door. The tracks clacked past along with trees and shrubbery. At the very least, it was snowing; Lyss hoped for a gentle landing. The Hatter indicated outside, and Lyss took it as her cue to jump. She sailed in the air, landing hard on the fluffy ground. It was cold and wet-her skirts were already dampening-but seconds later, the Hatter was on the ground with her. Together, they ran, Lyss following the Hatter. They dodged trees and though the snowy ground resisted them, they pushed through the piles of whiteness and their wet clothes until a clearing sat ahead of them. In that clearing was a cabin, and relieved, the pair stumbled their last few steps to shelter and safety. Hatter held his hat out to Lyss and she thought of cabins and unlocking doors before pulling out an old, ornate iron key. She opened the cabin and her and the Hatter stumbled inside. Lyss slammed the door shut and locked it. They were safe, at least for now.

The Hatter was already gone when Lyss turned around. She peeked into the doors of the rooms and found him collapsed in the bedroom. Lyss untied the Hatter's shoes, placed his hat on the nightstand, and found a spare blanket in the closet to cover him. She trod back into the living room, closing the door softly behind her. The Hatter had hardly given her the warm welcome she'd imagined, and she was trying very hard to pretend that she didn't care. So far, she wasn't doing a good job of it-her heart pumped disappointed and angry and lonely blood through her body.

A quick survey of the house found one other small bedroom, but it had no fireplace, and Lyss wasn't in the mood for boiling water and keeping a bottle in her bed. Instead, she went back to the living room once more and threw a number of dried-out logs in the hearth. Realizing that she was still wearing the Hatter's gloves, she crept back into his room to summon a match from his hat. When she was successful, she lit the fire; she was worried about the kind of attention the smoke from the chimney might draw, but she was too tired and cold to care. Lyss changed into a borrowed nightgown and, with several spare blankets piled atop her, Lyss walked to the couch and curled up for a long night of rest.


End file.
